


Rhinestone Cowboy

by sohox



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, External Homophobia, Heavy Drinking, M/M, Religious Content, Slow Burn, Touring Musician AU, bigotted characters, toxic homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2020-12-28 17:26:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 26,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21140438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sohox/pseuds/sohox
Summary: If he was honest with himself, he could admit the glamour of being on tour for one of Country Music’s biggest acts had clouded his better judgement. He’d quickly dismissed all apprehensions regarding living in a conversion van for three months, instead focusing on the idea of working a stage during a live show, standing in the wings while country maverick Roy Walker played to crowds bigger than the population of the town Rhett grew up in. It was a dream come true for a small town boy like him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first chaptered fic with an actual plot! I’m so nervous to share it with you, but I just can’t wait any longer. Please tell me your thoughts. Comments and kudos are my life force right now. 
> 
> Beta’d by my tumblr-love Elizabeth (captainsourwolf), and with much hand holding from the best Rhink friends a lady could ask for, you all know who you are.

  


The ache in Rhett’s lower back had graduated from an irritated twinge to full on searing pain, sharp enough to knock his breath from his lungs if he moved just right. He knew the work wouldn’t be easy, he was used to hard labor, had spent his life getting his hands dirty. What he hadn’t expected was how quickly his body would begin to put up a fight from not being able to stretch out at night, relax in a bed that would accommodate his large frame.

If he was honest with himself, he could admit the glamour of being on tour for one of Country Music’s biggest acts had clouded his better judgement. He’d quickly dismissed all apprehensions regarding living in a conversion van for three months, instead focusing on the idea of working a stage during a live show, standing in the wings while country maverick Roy Walker played to crowds bigger than the population of the town Rhett grew up in. It was a dream come true for a small town boy like him.

The tightness in his hip roared as he lugged amps and sound gear from the equipment trailer to the stage, the heat of the sun boiling down on his shoulders under his grey tank, sweat dripping down his arms. Texas was unforgiving this time of year, heat oppressive to the point of stealing your breath. He could feel the tops of his shoulders turning pink from the burn of the sun. He had rolled his black jeans up to just above his ankles, hoping for a bit of a breeze to cool him as he worked.

“Y’all need t’have this set up in thirty minutes, Neal’s got soundcheck at exactly three o’clock.” Lenny, the white haired tour manager barked, voice gruff with age and experience. His hands rested on his potbelly, using his cigar as a conductor's wand to direct the other men where to place things on the stage.

“Yessir!” A chorus of voices sang back, Rhett included. All things considered, being a roadie for the band was a privilege, no matter how badly his body ached at the end of the night, no matter how hard it was to fall asleep crammed five deep into a van meant for a utility, rather than comfort. Rhett just _ couldn’t _ waste the opportunity, couldn’t stand to be proven a fool for taking the chance.

At exactly three o’clock Rhett taped down the last chord, securing a lighting rig to the ground, rising up slowly, gingerly, and favoring his back with a little limp as he walked to the side of the stage, picking up an acoustic to make sure it was in tune.

  
“You’re walkin around like you had a cock up your ass all night,” Lenny spat his way. Rhett’s face burned red hot. In a normal situation, he’d have laughed off such a comment, maybe even played into it with a joke of his own, but surrounded by people that worked for America’s biggest, most outspoken opponent of such a lifestyle, he felt it like a threat. Roy Walker made no doubts about how he felt toward such _ transgressions _.

“Just slept funny, Lenny. That’s all. I’ll be alright by t’morrow.”

“Leave him be, Lenny. Y’all keep him crammed in that little clown car every night, I’m surprised he can walk at all.” A third, higher, voice rang from the other side of the stage.

“This ain’t your place, Neal. You worry ‘bout yer damn self.” 

Rhett looked over in time to watch the newcomer shrug. Lincoln Neal was, well, he was _ something. _ Something Rhett didn’t quite know how to put into words. He was taller than most, but not quite as tall as Rhett. His hair swooped up, perfectly styled into a coif that would’ve made Elvis jealous. He made his way toward the center of the stage, pulling a guitar strap over his head to rest on his strong broad shoulder covered in a plain black T-shirt. His pearl blue guitar settled nicely against his tiny tapered waist, sitting right atop his belly.

“It’s my place if he drops my gear because he can barely stand anymore!” Neal snarked back at the older man, walking closer to where Rhett was standing with his other instruments.

“I’d never, I can promise you that”, Rhett said, hushed, as Neal pulled the guitar out of his arms, sparing a glance over to see the older man walking off, apparently already done with the conversation.

Neal looked up at him, straight in the eye, irises so blue that Rhett couldn’t even think of the right word for the color. His face lit up with the tiniest crook of a smile. “I know, man. I was just gettin’ Lenny riled up.” He held Rhett’s eyes a few moments longer, earning a nearly imperceptible gulp from the taller man. Rhett felt his face bloom in heat, and couldn’t quite put a finger on why.

He felt that way around Neal sometimes, like he was completely unsure of himself. Rhett’s gut churned every time he found Neal’s eyes on him. Lincoln Neal was incredibly talented, a rising star in the country music scene. He’d released his first album earlier that year, and already he found a place as the opening act for Roy Walker. It was a huge accomplishment in its own right, but already other accolades were pouring in. He’d been nominated for a Grammy, no less, and there was talk that he could be headlining his own tour next year. He was intimidating to say the least. People walked on eggshells around him, in reverence, much like they did with Roy himself. Rhett could only dream to be in his position one day, and standing next to him, holding his instrument, being responsible for making sure the show went off without a hitch, was enough to give anyone nerves.

“I’ve got a flask of whiskey in my back pocket, let me know if you need a sip. Might help loosen that muscle.” Neal said with a wink, strutting back over to the center of the stage to stand in front of the microphone, already plucking out the first chords of a new song he’d been working on, the rest of the band quickly joining in. 

_watchin you, watchin me. _

_ sure as hell, you can’t see _

_ that I’m thinkin ‘bout you, desperately. _

Neal played to the invisible crowd, caressing the microphone like a lover’s cheekbone. Rhett found himself hypnotized by the way he rocked his hips behind the guitar in tune to the beat of the song, pivoting from one side of the stage to the other. More than once, Neal’s eyes fell to Rhett, voice dripping like honey. Neal was an incredible showman. It was no wonder why his fan base had grown so huge so quickly. Rhett stared at him, imagining himself in that same place, voice floating over lyrics the way Neal’s did, making his audience feel as if every word were about them.

_ Wanna know if you dream of me _

“Rhett, can you grab that tape and come ‘ere?” Josh’s voice broke through his reverie and he dragged his eyes away, back down to Earth and the task at hand.

“Yeah, yeah, here.” He replied, spurred into action, shaking his head, focusing on his job, rather than the voice that boomed around the stadium.

_ Or am I just a fool. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhett sat in the far back of the makeshift dining hall, facing away from the other crew members and staff, a half eaten Po’boy shoved to the side on the table in front of him while he restrung Roy’s guitar. His hands were already sore, despite the toughened calluses formed on the tips of his fingers. He plucked each string, testing for tightness, comparing the note it produced to the song playing through his tinny earbuds. Only one bud worked any more, having gone through a wash cycle at the laundromat before they left Texas, but he wore both anyway. It encouraged people to leave him alone while he worked, and sometimes Rhett just needed a break from the faces, the noises, the overwhelm of tour life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even remember who all helped look over this one, but every single one of you is a saint.

The shade beneath the craft services tent was doing nothing to help the sweltering heat of Louisiana in the summer. He could feel his red t-shirt clinging to his back, drenched, undoubtedly reeking of sweat. It was hard to ever really feel clean, when most days a  _ shower _ was a quick rinse off with paper towels at a rest area.

Rhett sat in the far back of the makeshift dining hall, facing away from the other crew members and staff, a half eaten Po’boy shoved to the side on the table in front of him while he restrung Roy’s guitar. His hands were already sore, despite the toughened calluses formed on the tips of his fingers. He plucked each string, testing for tightness, comparing the note it produced to the song playing through his tinny earbuds. Only one bud worked any more, having gone through a wash cycle at the laundromat before they left Texas, but he wore both anyway. It encouraged people to leave him alone while he worked, and sometimes Rhett just needed a break from the faces, the noises, the overwhelm of tour life. 

“You’re playin’ my song” a teasing voice broke through his concentration. Rhett looked as Neal sat down at the table across from him, placing his own tray of food next to Rhett’s on the creaky old picnic table. “I wasn’t sure at first, you were playing the notes so far apart, but sure enough.” The smile on Neal’s face went so far up it deepened the barely there crows feet around his blue eyes. “I was listenin’ while I was in line.” 

“It’s a real good song.” Rhett shrugged, dragging his eyes away to focus on his task. He could feel the pink creeping into his cheeks. It was startling, hearing Neal is his ear, and see him sitting right in front of him. Neal was watching him with intense scrutiny. “The guitar solo in that song is one of my favorite compositions.” 

“Yeah? I’m pretty fond of it myself,” Neal chuckled, as if telling himself an inside joke. “Messed around with it for months before I was happy with it.

“Wait,  _ you _ wrote it?” Rhett looked back up at him, his surprise painted on his face. 

“Yup, and played it on the album.” That famous crooked smile tugged at the corner of Neal’s mouth. 

“Oh,” Rhett sat back, placing the guitar down on the table. He pulled out his earbuds and looked at Neal consideringly. “This whole time I thought that was Kirk. I guess now I’m thinkin’ about it, it definitely seems outta character for him. Was gonna ask him for pointers about chord progressions.” 

Neal laughed again and Rhett felt a knock against his ankle, the other man’s shoe tapping against his bone in a friendly jab. “Yeah, sure. Ask away! If you can catch him, that is. Sometimes we can’t find him until minutes before we’re ‘spose to go on stage.” His voice dipped low, conspiratorially, playful smile gone from his lips. “And then the stupid bastard’s usually too drunk to play half the time. ‘m gonna have to learn to play two guitars at once, it seems.” He said before taking a bite of his sandwich. He left his foot propped against Rhett’s, as if he’d forgotten it was ever there at all. 

Rhett shook his head in awe, both at the fact that Neal’s talent seemed to be endless, and that someone like Kirk would be so stupid to take for granted how lucky he was. He watched Neal chew thoughtfully, then chase the bite with a swig of sweet tea. 

“‘S’that mean you write music too? I’ve heard you pickin’ a few times during set up. Seems like you’ve got a good ear. You picked up our new song pretty quick, some of my guys don’t even know it yet.” He laughed, lips cocked in a half grin. 

Rhett felt the pink bloom into scarlet, was sure Neal could feel the heat radiating from him in waves. He ducked his head back down, concentrating on the neck of the guitar, glad for something to occupy his hands. “Nah, I just mess around. I wouldn’t call anything I write a  _ song _ , more just melodies.” He picked out a little tune, notes swirling together in quick rhythm. It was one of his favorites, a little diddy he worked on for two months before he decided it was any good. As he played, Neal tapped his fingers in a complementary beat on the table, sandwich seemingly forgotten. 

“I dunno, I’d say that’s a song, my friend,” He said as the tune wound down. “If you’re not planning to do anything with it, I might have to buy it offa’ you.” Rhett laughed, but the look on Neal’s face was sincere, raw, almost too much to look at.

“You can have it, Neal. Like I said, I ain’t a song writer.” 

“Hey, man! Don’t sell yourself short. It’s a good tune.” He leaned forward a little, elbows resting on the table top, his signature black t-shirt stretching across his broad shoulders. “And hey, quit callin’ me Neal. That’s what Lenny calls me an’ I freakin’ hate it. I’m Link.” He stuck his hand out, offering a shake. Rhett placed his calloused hand in his, both sets of fingers wrapping firmly around each other. There was an electric buzz under Rhett’s skin and he made to pull his hand away, but Link held it firm, grip not letting up. He turned Rhett’s palm up to look at his arm. “What’s this?” He asked, studying the two black bands around Rhett’s wrist. His eyes crinkled again with a kind smile. “Friendship bracelets?”

Rhett laughed out loud, cheeks rounding with a grin. “No, no they’re not bracelets, actually. They’re, uh, those rubber bands you use in your hair… My hair used to be, uh, used to be pretty long for a while...” He pushed his wild curls up with his free hand, as if reminiscing about the longer locks. “My beard, too.”

“Longer than it is now?” Link asked, studying his face, both hands still keeping Rhett’s firmly in place. 

“Yeah, I liked it. It made me, uh, feel carefree? Like, it was just kinda part of how I saw myself. I had to cut it off when I took this job. I only ever really took these off when I used them to put my hair up. Guess I just kinda kept them as a reminder.” He looked down at his own wrist in Link’s grasp, skin budding goosebumps as Link’s thumb traced over the twin black bands, skating over the tendons and bone of his wrist. 

Link’s eyebrows knitted together, tongue darting out to moisten his bottom lip. “Do me a favor,” he said, voice dipping lower, almost a whisper between them. “When you’re done with this job, grow your hair back out, please? I don’t like the thought at all of you needing to change yourself for these assholes. Okay?” His hand squeezed Rhett’s in a sense of urgency and the need to voice something unspoken. 

“Yeah,” Rhett agreed, voice dropping to meet Link’s tone. “Yeah,  _ okay _ .”

“Good!” Link laughed, voice back to normal. He slipped his finger under one of the bands, rolling it off Rhett’s wrist, pushing it over his own knuckles. It was a bit more loose on him, falling into place a little higher on his forearm, looking like it belonged there. “I’m gonna keep this one, as a reminder for  _ myself _ . Make sure you hold up your end of that promise.” There was a glint in his eyes that Rhett couldn’t name. It made his belly ache. His hand felt heavy, no longer being supported by Link’s. Link sat back, picking up his sandwich again. He took a huge bite, mouth full but grinning Rhett’s way, letting the conversation turn to jokes about the supposed  _ cajun cuisine _ the tour management had promised. 

Rhett didn’t for a second forget that Link’s foot still rested against his bare ankle, out of sight from everyone around them. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for Liking, Commenting and Subscribing! You know what time it is!
> 
> Find me on tumblr @ soho-x.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You’re comin’, brother!” Link wrapped his arm around Rhett’s shoulder. His face was flushed from the high of a well played show, hair a wild mess atop his head. Roy was still on stage, playing the crowd like a fiddle. Rhett was on the set up crew that day which meant that he was relieved of the responsibilities of breaking down the set and loading it back into the equipment trailer that night. Link grinned at him, pulling his dark blue button down off, leaving behind a black undershirt that showed off his shoulders. “I know you got the rest’a the night off, I ain’t takin’ no for an answer this time!” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Lots of drinking in this chapter. If that makes you uncomfortable, I'd steer away. 
> 
> The lyrics in this chapter are from _Branded Man_ by Merle Haggard.

“You’re comin’, brother!” Link wrapped his arm around Rhett’s shoulder. His face was flushed from the high of a well played show, hair a wild mess atop his head. Roy was still on stage, playing the crowd like a fiddle. Rhett was on the set up crew that day which meant that he was relieved of the responsibilities of breaking down the set and loading it back into the equipment trailer that night. Link grinned at him, pulling his dark blue button down off, leaving behind a black undershirt that showed off his shoulders. “I know you got the rest’a the night off, I ain’t takin’ no for an answer this time!” 

Rhett never went out to the bar with the other guys, usually too exhausted and too broke to spend the money or the energy on drinking. Being around the other rowdy men on the crew made him anxious, tense. “I dunno, man, I’m ready to call it a night,” he pushed his hand against his aching hip to try to soothe the throb. 

“You gotta come man, the owner’s a huge fan and said me an’ the crew drink free all night!” The excited look in Link’s eyes drowned out the voice in his head saying this is a bad idea, letting him ignore the way his nerves swirled in his belly. 

“Alright, alright, y’all got me. I give in!” He grinned at the chorus of voices urging him on. Link’s smile lit up his entire face, victorious. He tugged on Rhett’s arm, pulling him through the darkened parking lot towards the waiting Uber, not letting go until the taller man was firmly inside.

The bar was crowded, thick with patrons already deep in libation, but the owner got them a three-quarter circle booth in the back. The group of guys piled in and Rhett found himself dead center, effectively trapped in place. He took off his hoodie, dressing down to just his plain pale blue t-shirt, already overheated in the stifling warm air of the bar. Link climbed in right next to him, his bare shoulder pressed flush against Rhett’s. He could feel Link’s body heat from his arm to hip, all the way down to where the full length of their thighs met. His body buzzed with nervous excitement, and the feeling of Link there next to him felt like an anchor. 

Once they’d all settled in, the bar owner sent over two buckets of beer bottles to get them started along with his prettiest waitress to take their orders. 

“What’re ya havin, sugar?” She said, her lips curving into a flirty smile when she focused her attention on Link.

Link turned on the  _ Lincoln Neal  _ charm, angling his head toward her as if to beckon her closer. ”Can they make me an Algonquin?” The way he smiled at the waitress made Rhett’s stomach flip. He wondered if that type of thing could be taught. It seemed dangerous, the power Link could exert over people. 

“This ain’t really that kinda bar, darlin.” She purred, leaning her hip against the table, clearly ready to take the bait. Rhett’s neck burned hot at her overt flirtation.

“Oh,” Link’s face fell, lips forming a perfect pout. “Okay then, just bring me a Beam, neat.” 

She rolled her eyes at Link playfully before turning to Rhett, “An’ what about you, baby?”

Rhett blushed at her use of the pet name, ducking his head down to consider his options. His face glowed even hotter and the pressure of Link’s thigh against his seemed to double. It had been a long time since he had really indulged, preferring to save his money for less fleeting vices. The last time he had really ‘wasted money’ on something other than food or laundry had been to buy a download of Link’s album. As such, he was in no position to say no to free bourbon. 

“I’ll have a rusty nail, soda back.” He finally said, smiling shyly over at his friend, grateful for a chance to cut loose. The waitress rolled her eyes again, snapping her notepad shut, clearly not finding the validation she was seeking. 

“Fuck yeah!” Link shouted loudly above the other voices. “Let’s get this party started!”

—

“Ugh, it’s too strong, man, I can’t do it!” Link grimaced every time he tried to take a pull of his drink, face screwed up, brows knit tight together. 

“Wait!” Rhett barked out a laugh, lifting Link’s drink to sniff it. The smell of nearly pure alcohol burned his nostrils. “Wait, wait,  _ wait!  _ Aren’t you Mister Lincoln  _ ‘I keep a flask of whiskey in my back pocket’ _ Neal?”

“Yeah, but that’s just ‘cause it’s like, a cowboy thing to do! I’mma cowboy.” Link pouted. 

“The closest you ev’r been to a horse was on a damn carousel” Lenny roared drunkenly from the far end of the booth, earning a hearty laugh from their group. 

“You shoulda gotten a chaser.” Rhett said, angling his body toward Link to block out Lenny’s obnoxious face. He slid his cold glass of Coke next to Link’s liquor. “Go on, drink it, it’ll help.” Link shook his head, not ready yet to try again. Rhett picked up and swirled his own drink, pulling a tiny sip before angling his finger toward Link, beckoning him forward with the digit. “Wanna try mine?” He mouthed around the cocktail straw. 

Link’s eyes lingered on Rhett’s lips, considering the question for a long moment before dragging his eyes up to meet Rhett’s. He leaned forward, mouth opening as Rhett held out the drink, letting him take a long slow pull through the straw. 

“Better?” Rhett asked, gaze darting between Link’s glittering eyes and his moistened lower lip. Link nodded quietly, eyes seemingly transfixed on Rhett’s face, then took another long slow sip, cheeks blooming a soft pink in the dim light of the bar. 

“Much better. You shouldn’ta let me order that foul shit. You shoulda told me to just get this.” He pushed his own drink away, over toward the crew, making it clear it was up for grabs before sticking his hand up to wave the waitress over again, smile huge and blinding as he ordered he and Rhett another round of rusty nails. 

They were four rounds in before the crew discovered the jukebox, playing a mix of old and new country hits. The group of men cackled or jeered as songs they loved and hated played from the tinny speakers. Naturally, a group of musicians couldn’t just let the songs play out, they had to put their own spin on each track, voices booming loudly, much to the chagrin of the other patrons. 

_ I'd like to hold my head up and be proud of who I am. _

_ But they won't let my secret go untold. _

Rhett’s eyes never left Link’s face as they both belted out the words of ol’ Merle, voices blending together in a balanced, albeit drunken, harmony. 

_ I paid the debt I owed them, but they're still not satisfied. _

_ Now I'm a branded man out in the cold. _

“You!” Link’s eyes lit up the moment they delivered the last line. “You’re a  _ singer!”  _ He accused in delight, bringing his leg up into the booth in order to turn and face Rhett. The move left him practically in Rhett’s lap, his bony knee overlapping Rhett’s thigh. “You been holdin’ out on me this  _ whole damn  _ time!” 

Rhett shook his head a little harder, a little faster than he should have, chuckling at Link’s comments, putting one hand on Link’s scrawny knee to prop himself up. “No no nuh-no! Definitely not. You’re the  _ singer _ , man _ .”  _

“Bull _ shit”  _ Link answered, laying his arm on top of Rhett’s to allow him to lean closer, an incredulous smile tugging at his lips. “First you write that damn melody, can’t quit playin’ it over an’ over in my head.  _ Then _ it turns out you’re a damn  _ singer too?  _ We’re _ gonna  _ write a damn song. You ’n me. Rhett ‘n Link.” He finished with a wave of his hand between them. 

Rhett’s face cracked into a grin of his own, nodding. He looked around the table, wondering if anyone else was aware enough to witness this moment, of Lincoln Neal telling him, a god damn roadie, he wants to write music together. His eyes stopped on just one other figure. Lenny’s glassy, unfocused gaze was lingering on their arms, laying atop one another, matching black bands on each of their wrists.    
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for Liking, Commenting and Subscribing! You know what time it is!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr @soho-x.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Everyone had different ways of dealing with it. For some guys, the opportunity to shower and sleep in a real bed was reason enough to go home with a girl for the night. Rhett hadn’t resorted to that just yet, he’d been making due with baby wipes and quick and dirty wipe-downs at truck stops along the way. The thought of a real hot shower was calling to him, the only thing dragging him through the last show before a day off. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part of this chapter contains extremely toxic views of homosexuality. It is a plot device, of course, but I understand that it can be a sensitive subject. Please proceed with caution.
> 
> Once again, thank you to everyone that has taken the time to read this. I'm blown away by the support I've received as these two have taken over my life. To my tumblr-loves, you are all keeping me sane with this one.

Six days of the week Roy lived the veritable rockstar lifestyle, drinking himself to sleep every night, preferably with a pretty young girl next to him. He loved that, even creeping into his late forties, he could still pull tail twenty years his junior. Monday through Saturday no excess was off limits. Sundays were another story. 

On Sundays Roy fancied himself a preacher. As a requirement of their job the crew would gather in whatever open space they could find available at that tour stop as he delivered his weekly sermon, bible in hand and the fear of God in his voice. 

“When God delivers his wrath upon a nation, he sentences them to their own wickedness.” Roy pointed over the crowd with his bible.

Most days it’s easy enough to fake attentiveness, to zone in on Roy and let his words float over him, not fully taking them in. This sermon was different. He sat next to Link, which alone would have been distracting enough with his air of chaotic energy. He couldn't seem to stop shifting in his seat, restless, unable to focus. He was sitting, back perfectly straight in his seat, alternating between wringing his hands and toying with the black band on his wrist. 

“In a nation in which God has sentenced this punishment, there is a surge of sexual immorality, then a surge of homosexuality, and finally the society loses its ability to think and reason. And there is no question: the United States of America has arrived at these days of judgement.”

The longer Roy spoke the more agitated Link became, jaw clenched tight, the apples of his cheeks flushed red. The urge to reach out and touch his shoulder was enough to make Rhett’s fingers twitch. He wanted to comfort his friend, but at the same time, Roy’s words rang sharp in his ears, making his gut twist in knots, made his face burn for reasons he couldn’t understand. Every quiet,  _ amen,  _ or  _ that’s right _ muttered by those seated around them only added gasoline to the flames licking at his insides. 

Instead, as quietly and as slowly as he could, he shifted his foot over, pressing the toe of his shoe against Link’s, hoping to communicate a sense of calm reassurance. When their feet connected, Link stilled for just a moment, before slumping back into his seat, releasing a breath Rhett was sure he hadn’t realized he was holding. 

Later, as they sat under the canopy of the craft services tent, Link was subdued, poking at his potato salad with the tip of his fork, and fully ignoring the brownie on his plate. 

“You okay, buddyroll?” Rhett asked, voice soft, imploring. 

Link huffed, mouth opening as if to speak before snapping shut again. 

“Hey, c’mon now. Tell me what you’re thinkin’ about.” He prodded, nudging Link’s foot under the table, again offering the only semblance of reassurance he dared out in the open. 

Finally, Link sat his fork down, looking up at Rhett from under his glasses, blue eyes magnified in a way that Rhett never appreciated when Link wore contacts. “I just can’t bring myself to believe that all‘a these people feel this way. That they can all be so full’a hate.” He let out a long breath, brow crinkling, voice dropping in a hushed whisper. “You don’t believe that bullshit Roy’s spewing,  _ do you _ ?”

“What, about gay people? About America dealing with ‘the Wrath O’ God’?” Rhett asked, shrugging one shoulder up to his ear. “Nah, I think he’s just findin’ somethin’ to condemn so he can feel more righteous about his own life.” 

“And that don’t bother you?” 

“I guess I never gave it much thought.” Rhett shrugged again, “I don’t really care what other people do in their own homes, and it doesn’t really affect me, so I guess I never formed much of an opinion.”

“It doesn’t  _ affect  _ you?” Link raises an eyebrow.

“Well, no. Not  _ really _ .” Rhett replied, stabbing a potato with his fork.

Link jerked his foot away under the table, standing, snatching his tray off the wooden surface before taking off without another word. 

The churning feeling in Rhett’s gut, the one he’d been trying to ignore for days now, roared again as he watched the shorter man storm off toward the busses. 

  
  
  


They reached hotel night in Biloxi just in time, Rhett was officially down to his last pair of clean underwear, and he’d worn many of the same shirts twice already since the last time they were able to do laundry. He would be self conscious of it, if it weren’t for the fact that all of the other roadies smelled just the same. It was the first rule of road life, eventually you’d smell like sweat. 

Or piss. 

Or  _ both _ . 

Everyone had different ways of dealing with it. For some guys, the opportunity to shower and sleep in a real bed was reason enough to go home with a girl for the night. Rhett hadn’t resorted to that just yet, he’d been making due with baby wipes and quick and dirty wipe-downs at truck stops along the way. The thought of a real  _ hot _ shower was calling to him, the only thing dragging him through the last show before a day off. 

Link caught up to him after the show, in the dark parking lot behind the venue, loading the last bundle of cords into the equipment trailer. 

“Wow man, you look like death warmed over. You doin’ okay?” Link quipped, voice tinged with a melody of humor. 

It had taken two days of radio silence before Link had reached out to him again, apologizing for acting weird, promising that he wasn’t upset with Rhett; he was just tired of listening to a hypocrite like Roy pretending to be a righteous man of God. Rhett was glad to have his friend back. Despite the hundreds of voices that surrounded him daily, tour life was quiet without Link. 

“Yeah, just tired. S’been a  _ real  _ long week.” He shrugged, grabbing his backpack off the ground.

Link’s smile faltered just slightly, “Guess I’ll have’ta take a rain check, then.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” 

“Well,” Link said, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand. “I wanted to see if you would want to work on that song tonight, since we have tomorrow off.”

Rhett’s back longed for the promise of the hot steam of a shower, but the thought of writing with Link was…  _ well _ , the sacrifice was extremely tempting.    


“I’d love to man, but I absolutely reek. I really  _ really  _ need to shower. The rest of the guys are going out right after the show, I was gonna get the room key and use up every drop of hot water this hotel has to offer. 

Link laughed, crossing his arms over his chest atop his light blue button down. “Yeah, I hear ya, man. Well, it’s not like  _ my  _ room doesn’t  _ also _ have a shower.” He teased, eyes sparkling with mirth.

Rhett paused, looking hard at Link’s face. His blue eyes looked... _ hopeful.  _ “Alright, alright.” He laughed. “You’re always gettin’ me to do things against my better judgement!” He joked. “Tryin’ to corrupt me?”

Link’s eyes twinkled in the light from the lamps of the parking lot. “You have  _ no _ idea. Go grab your gear, I’ll grab a bottle from the green room bar and order an Uber.”

Link climbed into the black car behind him, crowding in close to him in the backseat, not quite close enough to be touching, but close enough that Rhett could feel the warmth of his body heat. 

They rode the first eight miles in silence, letting the smooth hum of the engine and their driver‘s occasional chatter fill the air between them. It was rare they were really  _ alone _ together, usually surrounded by the noisey circus of people. Rhett was not quite sure how to break the hush that fell between them. 

Link’s head was already drooping a little. It wasn’t uncommon that fatigue from the show would set into him, all his adrenaline used up on stage. His body slumped back against the seat, shoulder coming to rest right against Rhett’s

“Tired, bud?” He asked, quietly. 

“Hm, yeah. But I’ll be alright. I’m sure they got coffee in the lobby.” 

“It’s alright, man. I can still just go get my own key,” Rhett said, lifting his eyes to the rearview mirror to see the driver watching him, a tiny smirk on her lips. He quickly clarified “there’ll be other chances to get together to write.” 

“Mmm, nah, I just need a minute,” Link said, leaning down until his head was against Rhett’s shoulder. Rhett felt his breath catch in his throat, the act far more intimate than any contact they’d shared before. He let himself enjoy the contact, it had been a long time since he had been close enough to someone to enjoy the simple notion of proximity. He let his eyes wander up to the rearview mirror again, the driver’s smirk grew, now joined with the lifting of an eyebrow.

His stomach tightened with anxiety. Rather than say anything, Rhett angled out his elbow, jabbing it playfully into Link’s ribs, eliciting a shocked gasp from the smaller man, jolting upright, his mouth falling open in shocked surprise. 

“You. Did.  _ Not!”  _ His voice was full of humor as he pivoted toward him, pushing his upper body into Rhett’s, digging his fingers into the flesh of his belly. 

“No! Stop!  _ Stop!”  _ Rhett shouted, laughing despite the panic the driver was inducing, wrestling against him to grab Link’s wrists, holding them both still against his chest to keep Link from trying to tickle him again. Link pulled against his grip half-heartedly, breath coming in quick, shallow pants, blue eyes darting between Rhett’s eyes and his mouth. 

Rhett’s face flooded with color, wanting to look away from Link’s eyes, unable to blink. He felt a surge of something wholly unfamiliar, and he was torn between wanting to chase the feeling and wanting to run away. 

“We’re here, fellas.” The driver said, her voice breaking through the reverie they’d fallen into. Rhett dropped Link’s wrists quickly, straightening up and reaching for his backpack. 

As they exited the car, the young lady called out behind them, voice mockingly sweet. “Hope y’all have  _ fun!”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for Liking, Commenting and Subscribing! You know what time it is!
> 
> Find me on tumblr @ soho-x.tumblr.com


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The hotel wasn’t very fancy, even by Rhett’s standards, but any place would’ve been better than the van. He was sure the room he’d be sharing with the other roadies wasn’t going to be quite this nice, certainly wouldn’t have the large king size bed in the center of the room, or plush pull out couch cast off to the side, forming a makeshift living space. Even sleeping on the carpeted floor would be better than sleeping upright, crammed in the back seat of the van._   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this isn’t formatted properly. I was in a rush to get it posted. I’ll come back and fix it soon.

The hotel wasn’t very fancy, even by Rhett’s standards, but any place would’ve been better than the van. He was sure the room he’d be sharing with the other roadies wasn’t going to be quite _ this _ nice, certainly wouldn’t have the large king size bed in the center of the room, or plush pull out couch cast off to the side, forming a makeshift living space. Even sleeping on the carpeted floor would be better than sleeping upright, crammed in the back seat of the van.

It had been a damn long while, sure, but Rhett couldn’t ever remember feeling this good, standing under the hot spray of a shower, letting water beat down over his tired and aching back muscles. Link had graciously let him have at the shower before they started working, having already rinsed off at the venue before he came to find Rhett. He tipped his head back, letting the spray pour over his face, marveling that the faucet was high up enough that his six foot seven frame could fit all the way under it.

He startled, suddenly, at the noise of Link opening the bathroom door, ducking his head around it to peer in. “Sorry man, I thought you’d be done by now. I went down to the lobby to find cups. They only had one cup left in the whole damn lobby, but they gave me this to make up for it.” He held up two glass bottles of Coke.

“Haha, still can’t shoot it neat?” Rhett teased, arms instinctively wrapping around his naked torso.

“Nah, and I’m man enough to admit I ain’t even gonna try.” Link laughed, hopping up onto the bathroom counter, leaning back against the mirror, looking completely comfortable in the situation. His nearness made the back of Rhett’s neck burn. 

Even through the frosted foggy glass of the shower door Rhett could still make out his silhouette, his baby blue button down bright against the white of the room, the front of it tucked behind a small belt buckle looped into his tight-fit black jeans. He didn’t dress quite like the other musicians on tour except when he was on stage. He always looked, well, _ stylish _, Rhett supposed was the word he was looking for. Rhett always felt messy, a little unkempt around him.

Link continued chattering on, complaining about Kirk’s performance that night, and how they had fought backstage. He wanted to have a talk with the man the next day. As Rhett watched him, he let his hand roam over his own skin, chasing the soap suds, listening to Link’s voice reverberate through the bathroom, bouncing off the marble floor. Rhett rolled his head back and forth, stretching his neck under the warm water. Link’s eyes stayed firmly on Rhett’s face as he spoke, eyes tracking his movements, not once looking away.

Rhett felt like maybe he should say something about privacy, or boundaries, but he was honestly too tired to go down that rabbit hole, and Link obviously didn’t seem to think it was a big deal. It had been a really long time since Rhett had let himself be this comfortable around another person, and he didn’t want to upset the quiet happy balance they’d found in their friendship. Besides, Rhett knew not to mistake kindness for something _ else. _

“Aren’t you done yet?” Link whined with a teasing smile, faking exasperation. “I’m ready to let the words and the liquor flow _ through _ me!”

Rhett laughed, Link’s enthusiasm was contagious. He also wanted to get started, see what kind of music they could come up with together. “Yeah yeah, I told you I was gonna drain every drop of hot water out of this tank. S’makin my back feel _ amazing _.” 

“I bet it is,” Link paused, the register of his voice dropping lower, catching Rhett’s eye with a sly smile on his face. “But know what else would help? Several, and I do mean _ several, _ rounds of Coke and Beam.” He laughed, one leg absentmindedly kicking at the counter top he was perched on, laying his hands up on his belly while he waited. “You can come back and shower again later. We’re all booked here for _ two whole days. _”

Rhett let the hot water run over his clean hair for a few more moments, savoring the feeling, memorizing it and vowing to himself he’d take Link up on that offer. 

* * *

In his rush to get to the shower on the way in, Rhett hadn’t noticed, but there were two guitars in the room, brought up by the concierge by special request.

They sat across from each other on the floor, nestled in front of the couch, both men wearing tattered old sweat pants and threadbare t shirts, bare toes cold in the chill of the room. All of the lights in the room were turned off, save for the glow of the muted TV, casting a cool blue highlight all over the room.

They each had a guitar in their lap, Link with a pad of paper nearby, a pen tucked neatly behind his ear.

Link asked Rhett to play the melody again, watched him pluck out the chords, trying to match his fingers to Rhett’s so they could play it together. He couldn’t quite get the positioning right so Rhett reached over, helping place his fingers in the correct positions.

They each took turns taking swigs from the Jim Beam bottle, chasing it with a sip of Coke. Ever so often, they took turns shifting their hips each time they bent forward until they were sitting close enough that their knees were pressed together.

Once they played in sync, Link began to sing the first lines of the song he’d been working on.

_ “You think my mouth tastes like whiskey, _

  
_ I bet your lips taste like sin.” _

The smooth croon of his voice sent shivers down Rhett’s spine. He was masterful at using his voice to draw in his listener, smooth dulcet tones reaching out, caressing his audience. Rhett watched him, completely entranced, fingers playing his tune on autopilot.

_ “I’m wrapped around your little finger, baby.” _

He opened his eyes, gaze locked in on Rhett’s.

_  
_ _ “Just dying for you to let me in.” _

“Wow.” Rhet breathed out, voice cracking over the word. He took another swing of liquor to soothe the dryness in his throat. “That’s _ really _ somethin’ man.”

Link laughed, “Seems like damn love songs s’all I write any more.”

Rhett ducked his head down, fingers caressing the fretboard, toying with the tuning pins absentmindedly. “Yeah, but a lotta your fans are girls, don’t they just eat that shit up? 

“Yeah, it’s just annoying to write a love song you can’t sing to the person you wrote it about.” Link sat his guitar down, slumping back against the couch, his long legs crossing over each other. 

Rhett didn’t know how to respond to that. He wanted Link to explain what he meant, but it seemed too personal to ask. He sat his own guitar down, leaning back against the couch as well, their arms pressed right up against each other.

“I dunno, brother, I think love songs end up being the best type’a song, you know? The kinda song that stays with you through your _ whole _ life. Reminds you of the important moments you been through.”

Link huffed, pulling his glasses off his face, setting them aside before grabbing the Beam bottle again, taking in a mouthful, grimacing but not bothering to chase it this time. “I sold the first real song I ever wrote and Roy ended up being the one who recorded it.” Link laughed, humorlessly. “I ain't never told anybody else that.“

Rhett pulled the bottle out of Link’s hand, pressing it to his own lips, watching the shadows of the television set dance over the other man’s face.

“You wrote a song for Roy?”

“Nah, I wrote it for _ me _ . I was working in Nashville with a music publisher. We pitched it everywhere. The label wasn’t really interested in me at the time, but they liked the song. Thought it would be better suited to someone who could turn it into a hit. Now I have to listen to his hateful voice sing it almost every night and it makes me _ sick _.” 

He looked up at Rhett from under long lashes, studying his face. Rhett felt like holding his breath for fear of upsetting the air between them.

A small smile curved Link’s lips, voice a quiet murmur. “I think it’s kinda funny that fucking hypocrite sings a song I wrote about kissing my dorm mate. That boy was _ obsessed _ with my mouth.”

_Oh _.

Rhett was trapped in Link’s intense gaze, throat growing tight the longer he was caught here. He felt like the air in his lungs had been knocked out of him at Link’s admission. His own eyes danced between Link’s eyes and his lips, watching his tongue dart out to wet them. He felt his own mouth opening, then closing again, unable to fathom words from his racing thoughts.

“Say something,” Link breathed, voice impossibly small. _ “Please, _ Rhett, _ say anything.” _

“_ Link _, I…” No words came to him. His stomach was tight, unsettled. He felt like the entire world had stopped moving, holding still for this moment. He leaned forward, impossibly slow, brushing his mouth over Link’s, slowly, carefully, as if one wrong move might scare either of them away.

  
_ You think my mouth tastes like whiskey,_

  
_ I bet your lips taste like sin. _

Link slowly lifted his hand, fingertips ghosting over the curve of Rhett’s jaw, pushing forward just slightly to deepen the kiss. His tongue whispered along the seam of Rhett’s mouth, begging for entrance.

_ I’m wrapped around your little finger, baby._

Rhett moaned, almost inaudibly, mouth opening just a touch, just enough of an invitation for Link to surge forward, one hand grabbing Rhett’s shoulder, the other wrapping around the back of his neck, climbing into his lap, chest to chest.

_ Just dying for you to let me in._

“Link! Link man, we gotta problem!” There was shouting from the other side of the hotel room door. Both Link and Rhett scrabbled apart, Rhett reaching up to touch his mouth as if he’d been scalded, Link pushing his hands through his hair before running to the door.

“What, uh, what’s goin’ on?” He shouted through the wooden pane.

“It’s Kirk, that asshole’s disappeared. Never got on the bus after the show, now no one’s been able to track ‘im down.” Kenny, the drummer yelled from out in the hall.

“Fuck!” Link shouted, looking over at Rhett, eyes panicked.

“Meet us down in the lobby, man, we gotta go look for ‘im ”

Link paced back and forth, wringing his hands as Rhett stood up, not knowing quite what to do. Link walked over to him in three quick strides, wrapped his arms around him, and buried his face in his neck. He breathed deeply for just a moment, Rhett’s hands coming to rest upon his shoulders. Link squeezed him tightly for a beat before tearing himself away, grabbing the room key off the side table, and pushed his way out of the door.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He and the other members of the crew had taken up position in the hotel lobby, near the bar, spread out among the cushioned seats and couches, entirely too hungover to effectively deal with the situation. The tensions between the Neal Band members were escalating rapidly, leaving everyone on edge. It was written plainly on everyone’s face: what happens if we don’t find him? Where does that leave us?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all.

The next day was a flurry of panic, a scramble to find Kirk, or to figure out the next steps if they couldn’t. Rhett could see haunted exhaustion on everyone’s face; not a single member of the Lincoln Neal band, or the road crew that supported them, had slept much the night before.

Link had immediately sprang into action the night before, one last quick, hard look thrown over his shoulder at Rhett before he squeezed out of the hotel room door. Rhett waited for ten minutes after he left, scouring the room to make sure he hadn’t left anything behind. He paused, seeing the notepad laying on the floor, lyrics and notes written in Link’s loopy handwriting. He tore the page out, just in case someone else came in before Link got back. He could give it back to him later.

He and the other members of the crew had taken up position in the hotel lobby, near the bar, spread out among the cushioned seats and couches, entirely too hungover to effectively deal with the situation. The tensions between the Neal Band members were escalating rapidly, leaving everyone on edge. It was written plainly on everyone’s face: _ what happens if we don’t find him? Where does that leave us? _

“What the hell am I supposed to do, man?” Link demanded when their drummer complained they weren’t _ doing _ enough. Link looked exhausted, still dressed in the same clothes as the night before. Rhett knew he hadn‘t slept yet. ”He ain't answerin’ our calls. Hell, at this point every time we call him it's just goin’ straight to his damn voicemail. All the texts say delivered but not read. I don't know if he’s just gone, or if he’s dead in a ditch somewhere.”

He was watching Link so closely he felt like everyone could see it all over him, every member of the crew, every member of the bands, even the hotel staff. He felt like they were all looking at a sign on his chest, telling them exactly what he’d done the previous night. He wasn’t sure what had come over him. He wished he could blame it on the drink.

It would have been easy to say that he was just drunk, that people make mistakes when they’re half way through a bottle of bourbon. Rhett knew, deep in his gut, that wasn’t right. If it had just been the drink, he wouldn’t feel like this today. He wouldn’t be watching Link pace the lobby, back and forth. The urge wouldn’t be there to grab him, hold him still, tell him it would all be alright. His gut twisted, guilty for fixating on his own worries rather than thinking how upset Link had to be.

The few times Rhett let himself catch Link’s eyes he would pause, a pained look on face, like all he wanted to do was to walk over. Rhett wanted him to. He wanted to stride over to him, wrap him up in his arms and hold him tight against his chest. He could still feel Link’s mouth against his, still feel the weight of him in his lap.

No, that wasn’t right.

Rhett’s didn’t. No.

He _ couldn’t. _

He thought about before, about the start of the tour, before they’d become friends, before they had opened up to each other. If Link’s band was forced off the tour, Rhett couldn’t imagine going back to the isolation, the awkward small talk, the regret of joining this mess of spiteful people. The loneliness aching deeply in his bones. Link had been a glimmer of light, a source of comfort. He was Rhett’s _ friend _ , and for that he was _ so _ thankful.

“_ Rhett _ ,” the sound of Link calling his name lit his entire body on fire, breaking him out of the mess of his thoughts. He was so grateful to be wearing sunglasses to somewhat obscure the blush on his face. Link walked over to him, standing right in front of his bent knees. His eyes look panicked and pleading. “Hey, can I ask a favor? Kirk doesn’t know your phone number. Wouldn’t recognize it if you called him. _ Please _, Rhett.” He understood, didn’t need to be asked twice. Before Link even finished speaking he had his phone out, unlocked, handing it over. Their fingers brushed over each other’s, a shock of electric courses up Rhett’s arm. 

“Thanks,” Link mulled, a sad, grateful smile turning up the corner of his mouth. 

“No problem, brother.” Rhett says. Link looked at him, hard, but Rhett couldn‘t tell what he was thinking.

Link dialed the number quickly and handed it back to Rhett. After three rings Kirk finally picked up.

“‘llo?”

“Hey, uh, Kirk. It’s Rhett. From the sound crew?”

“The fuck d’you want?” His voice was drunk, distant.

Link waved his hand, as if to prod Rhett on, silently urging him to continue.

“Hey man, we were just lookin for ya. Uh, no one could find you after the show last night. Everyone’s real worried.”

“Tha’s bullshit, man” his tinny voice squawked through the speaker phone. A small crowd of management and crew had gathered around, listening. “No one there gives a shit about what I do or what I want. They’re all up Neal’s ass, and he’s all that fuckin’ matters.” Rhett looked up at Link, standing stock still, hands balled into tight fists at his sides. His jaw was clenched, pure fury etched over his features. “Tell that piece a’shit I’m done. I ain’t his bitch no more. He can keep all my equipment because I don’ fuckin’ wan’ it. I don’ ever wanna to touch a fuckin’ guitar again in my life.”

“You fucking _ asshole!” _Link grabbed the phone out of Rhett’s hands, shouting into the receiver. It was too late though, the moment he heard Link’s voice Kirk hung up.

“Fuck you! Fuck you, you fucking alcoholic dickhole!” Link shouted at the blank phone screen. 

Rhett looked around at the stunned faces. Even Roy had stumbled out to see what was going on. He was the only one without a worried look on his face. He had a delighted gleam in his eye.

He clapped Link on the shoulder, laughing. “‘Bout to let your band break up? Issa a tale as ol’ as country music isself. Jus’ when you were ‘bout to hit it big, kiddo!” His laugh had a mean edge tinged with booze. _ Christ, _ Rhett thought, fingers balling up into fists. _ It ain’t even noon yet._

Link jerked his shoulder out of Roy’s grasp, storming out of the lobby doors to the waiting tour bus.

It took Rhett a long while before he realized Link still had his phone in his hand.

Josh found him later at the hotel bar, nursing a beer with the rest of the road crew. They spent their full day off spent on edge, waiting to find out what to do next. The tour management hadn’t said anything up until that point, everyone was just waiting, watching the drama unfold. Half of them worked directly for Link’s band, they were worried they might not have a job come tomorrow. That didn’t stop them from blowing the last of their crumpled up dollars on booze.

“Hey man,” the younger man said, sliding into the vacant barstool next to him. He waved a hand at the bartender, motioning him over, angling his body slightly toward Rhett in his seat. He reached into his pocket, pulled out Rhett’s phone and sat it into the counter. “Neal asked me to give this to you.”

Rhett picked it up, holding it like a relic. “Oh, thanks Josh.” He says. He could feel the tips of his ears burning.

Josh grabbed his beer from the bartender’s hand, tipping it toward the older gentleman in thanks before taking a long pull. “Don’t mention it, dude. He probably would’ve brought it to you himself but he’s kinda freaking out. I popped in to take him some food earlier. He looked like he’d been crying.”

Rhett could feel his gut clench at the thought. “That’s… damn. That’s awful.”

Josh shrugged, agreeing. “Yeah, it’s gotta be scary, being right in the middle of the biggest era of your career, only for things to start to fall apart just as you’re getting going. I mean, I think they’ll all be fine eventually, but I’m sure he’s freaking out right now. He’s got a lot riding on his shoulders.”

Rhett nodded in agreement, unlocking his phone. It opened directly to a contact page. One that hadn't been there before.

It read _ Link<3. _

Rhett’s face flamed beet red. His stomach fluttered. The tiniest hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

Full minutes slipped by with Rhett just staring at the contact page. Josh rambled on next to him, speculating about the rest of the tour. 

His phone buzzed, a notification popping up at the top of the screen.

_Link<3: Can we talk?_

A moment later another message came through.

_Link<3: meet me @ the bus in ten._

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He stood before the door of the bus, trying to remember his breathing techniques before his thoughts spiraled downhill. He had coasted on a wave of adrenaline all the way over to the bus, but now, standing before it, a knock away from seeing Link again, a feeling of pent up anxiety had settled into his bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's all happening.

“You alright, man?” Josh asked, pausing his one sided conversation to stare Rhett in the face. He nodded toward the phone curiously. “Was that Neal?”

For a wild moment Rhett considered lying, considered shoving his phone deep into his pocket and ignoring the terrifying thrill in his chest. 

“Yeah,” he looked up at Josh, unable to suppress the smile spreading across his face, throwing a couple of crumpled up bills onto the bar top. “Yeah, man. Hey, I’ll see you later, okay? I gotta…”

He made his way out of the hotel lobby, completely missing the knowing grin Josh sent his way. 

He stood before the door of the bus, trying to remember his breathing techniques before his thoughts spiraled downhill. He had coasted on a wave of adrenaline all the way over to the bus, but now, standing before it, a knock away from seeing Link again, a feeling of pent up anxiety had settled into his bones. 

Finally, bracing himself, he lifted his hand to knock on the door, holding his breath until it swung open. 

The face that greeted him was not smiling, was not excited to see him. It was not Link. 

“Lenny, uh, I’m lookin for…”

Lenny cut him off with the wave of his hand. “Shut up, boy. Get on up in ‘ere.” The gruff older man spat his words out, making his way deeper into the bus. Rhett followed behind him, eyes sweeping over the unfamiliar place. The lounge had soft ash gray wood paneling, shiny chrome accents that looked expensive, and two long plush leather couches that faced each other. Lenny plopped gown on one unceremoniously, gesturing for Rhett to do the same on the other. 

“So it seems I find myself in a bit of a predicament today.” He started, leaning back into the soft black leather, “I’ve got another month worth of concerts lined up, venues full’a thousands of paying customers, some of ’em only comin’ just to see the Lincoln Neal band, if you can believe that shit. But the band is fallin’ apart faster than a whore’s alibi.” 

He paused, leveling Rhett with a look, he said “I’m not going to let it happen, not on my watch. I got too much money to lose on account‘a some punk kids who can’t keep their goddamn attitudes in check.”

Rhett wasn’t sure what to say, not sure how it involved him. Lenny’s stared daggers into Rhett and it made him feel uneasy, guts churning with every moment he was forced to sit in front of the older man. 

“I need your help, son.” He sighed with exasperation, clearly not wanting this conversation to happen.

“Sir?” Rhett had no idea where this was going. Despite his size he felt small, cornered under Lenny’s scrutiny. 

Lenny waited, staring hard into Rhett’s face for a long moment before he spoke again. “So, Neal tells me you’re a musician.” He paused, getting up to grab a guitar from the round table further into the lounge, handing it over to Rhett. “Well boy, let’s hear it.” 

Rhett cradled the guitar gently in his arms, plucking a few chords before adjusting the tuning knobs until he was satisfied with the tone. He strummed the notes to the Lincoln Neal band’s most popular single, trying to quell the shaking in his voice as he sang. 

He imagined Link sitting next to him, harmonizing with him, voices melding together in perfect unity as he had imagined hundreds of times before. He should’ve let it stop there, should’ve stayed in the moment, in front of the one person in the world that he shouldn’t, he let his mind wander to the night before, sitting close, knees pressed into each other as their voices mingled sweetly in the quiet hotel room. 

“Stop.” Lenny’s voice broke through his reverie. He felt his face flame, trying to bring his thoughts back to the present rather than dwell in the memory of Link crawling into his lap. “Alright, you can definitely play. And you know alla the songs that good?” 

Rhett nodded solemnly, “Yessir.” 

Lenny pulled his glasses off his face. Wiping them clean on his gray T-shirt. “Well then I guess you got yerself a job.” He said, as if it pained him to utter the words. “Don’t get too comfortable. It’s just temporary until we can find a _ real _ musician to take over. But you’ll get a pay raise and you can stay on the bus instead of in the van. We may still need you to help set the stage up on occasion. But you’ll mostly be busy makin’ sure you don’t _ fuck up _ on stage.”

Rhett was sure the disbelief he felt as written all over his face. He felt like his heart might burst open right there on the spot, his knuckles were turning white from where they clutched at the neck of the guitar in his hand.

“You’re really serious?” He asked again, a smile blooming over his features. The elation soared through him, every fiber of his being humming with excitement. 

“Listen to me, boy. This is only happening because Neal can’t hold his fuckin’ band together and I ain’t about to lose any more money because of that little shit.” 

Rhett felt the sweet surge of happiness quickly evaporating, Lenny’s words dripped pure venom, The look on his face conveyed absolute contempt. 

“And another thing.” Lenny slid his glasses back onto his weathered mug. “Don’t think I don’t know there’s _ somethin’ _ goin on between you and Neal. I see the way that little cocksucker looks at you, has ever since you joined this tour. Like you hung the fuckin’ moon. If I _ ever _ find out there’s something more than just _ looks _ happenin’, you’ll be out in your ass faster than you can say _ hasbeen _.”

“Lenny, it’s not…” Rhett started, bringing a hand up in surrender.

The older man interrupted him, leveling Rhett with a gaze as cold as steel. “I’ll make sure Neal never plays another show again. Our label owns every one of his damn songs, and I’ve got plenty a’ artists that would love to rerecord ’em. Just fuckin’ try me, boy.”

There was a faint knock on the door and both men shot to their feet, Rhett gingerly laying the guitar in the couch.

“Whoissit” Lenny barked. 

The door opened a fraction, Link’s voice popping in. “It’s me. Y’all done yet?”

“Yeah, get on in here.” Lenny growled, beckoning him in. Link climbed aboard, making his way into the lounge to stand with the other two men. “Well, Neal. Seems like we got a bandaid for our booboo. It’ll get us through the tour at least.” He clapped Link on the shoulder patronizingly before squeezing past him. A huge grin spread over Link’s face when he turned to look at Rhett. Rhett felt his heart stutter at the sight. 

Rhett glanced over to Lenny’s retreating form and the man paused with a hand on the door of the bus. He looked between the two younger men before settling his eyes on Rhett, tilting his head as if to say _ don’t you fucking forget. I’m watching you. _Rhett felt the heat of shame engulf him. 

The moment the door closed behind the older man, Link moved into Rhett’s space, one arm wrapping around his back, the other coming up to curl his fingers along the back of Rhett’s neck, pressing into him until they were chest to chest. 

“I’m so glad it’s you.” Link breathed, lips ghosting over the pulse point of Rhett’s throat. Rhett shuddered at the touch but he didn’t wrap his arms around Link, didn’t hold his smaller body against him like he had longed to earlier. It only took Link a moment to notice before he pulled back, hands clinging to each of Rhett’s shoulders. “_ Rhett _?” His voice broke on the word, and Rhett felt his heart drop into his stomach. He hated himself for what he knew he needed to do.

“Link, I’m real excited to help y’all.” He started, voice already quavering. “You know how much I respect this band, and it’s an honor to be able to fill in, however long you’ll have me. But. I think we should keep things professional between you an’ me. We were both drinking’ last night and… _ well _. It’s probably for the best that things didn’t go any further, all things considered.” 

Link dropped his hands as if he’d been scalded, taking a tiny step back and Rhett’s heart lurched, bile backing up in his throat. “This’s Lenny talkin, ain’t it? He got to you. _ Fuck _. He threatened you, didn’t he, that fucking piece of shit.” Link stated matter-of-factly. His face was turning red, brow creased in a deep furrow, voice verging on hysterical. He looked Rhett square in the eye, panic evident on his face. “Wait, what song did you play him? Not the one from last night.” 

“No, of course not. I played ‘im Ripchord.” 

Link looked relieved, finally releasing his clenched fists. “Good. _ Fuck. _ They can’t know about that song, Rhett. They’ll try to lay some bullshit claim to it. Sayin’ I wrote it on their time. Keep that between me and you, okay?”

Rhett nodded, slowly. He still had the papers with the scribbled lyrics tucked away safely in his wallet. He looked at the smaller man, hoping that he could see written on his face every word he wanted to say, every thought that plagued him that was now too dangerous to voice. 

Link’s eyes blazed, searching for something in Rhett’s eyes and the moment he found it, he surged forward, brushing his lips over the corner of Rhett’s mouth, just for a moment. He pulled back and whispered, “I can’t let them take anything else from me. From _ you.” _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 8

Rhett was sitting in front of the dressing room mirror, watching a young lady style his hair into a smooth golden coif, seeing Link’s reflection in the background as he ran scales to warm up his voice. He nodded every so often to the girl as she smoothed his hair back, just to let her keep her side of the conversation going, but truthfully, he was preoccupied. He watched Link pace nervously back and forth across the room, trying his best to keep any hint of anxiety out of his voice as he sang out a medley of his songs. 

The other two members of the band had cleared out of the dressing room early. The tension in the room had grown thick and Rhett was grateful for the momentary reprieve. Everyone worried about how Rhett would perform on such short notice. Soundcheck had gone okay, except that he had come in late on the bridge for Wild Runnin’, the last song on the setlist. He recovered quickly, but he could see it on Kenny’s face. The guy thought he was a rookie. 

He _ was _ a rookie. He had never played in front of this many people in his life. Not even half this many. And to add to the fire of nerves, he had to play next to Link. There was a reason people loved Lincoln Neal. It had a lot to do with his charisma and charm, but even more so, it had to do with his sheer talent. He was skilled at four different musical instruments, he could hit notes in falsetto that old masters couldn’t hit. And he wrote songs that made people... well, that made people _ fall _ in _ love _. 

Rhett cleared his throat. “Uh, I think I’m all set, thank you,” he said, shrugging away from the hairdresser. He sat up straighter in his chair, eyes locking onto Link’s through the reflection in the pane of glass. 

Link paused his warm up, standing still, facing Rhett in the mirror. “You look good, Rhett.” He swallowed, the curve of his mouth tugging upward. “Real good.” 

Rhett felt his stomach flip, felt heat rising in his cheeks. He ducked his head, breaking their eye contact. When he looked back up, Link was still gazing at him in the mirrored pane. He tried to suppress the tiny grin tugging at his own lips. 

“Just one little detail missing,” Link said. “Katie, can you excuse us?” 

She shrugged, snatching up her phone from the vanity top, leaving quietly. 

Link waited, eyes not leaving Rhett’s until he heard the click of the dressing room door shutting behind her. 

“Stand up real quick,” he said, motioning with his hand for Rhett to get up. 

Rhett did as he was told, standing awkwardly on joints stiff from sitting so long. 

“Take off your shirt,” Link commanded, walking closer to where Rhett was standing. 

“What? Wait, _ Link…” _Rhett started, taking a tiny step back. 

Link just laughed, a bright sparkling sound that made Rhett’s stomach swoop. He walked past Rhett, over to a tiny closet on the side of the room. He opened the door and pulled out a garment bag. 

“Link, what is that?” He asked, pulling his black t-shirt over his head. 

Link placed the hook of the bag on a wardrobe rack, unzipping it to reveal a blue and white paisley patterned button down shirt, and a warm tan blazer. He made short work of the buttons, opening each pearly blue fastener carefully, glancing over at Rhett shyly as he worked. 

“It’s your first night up there. Wanted you to look the part.” Link spoke, quietly. He held up the shirt to Rhett, their fingers brushing past each other as Rhett took the garment from him. 

Rhett slipped the shirt over his arms, up past his shoulders, gathering the material in front of his chest. Link immediately stepped into his space, fingers finding the buttons at the base of the shirt, twisting each one in turn, making his way up, meticulously. Rhett felt like holding his breath, but he could smell Link, the pomade in his hair, the scent of his cologne, the slightest hint of whiskey on his breath. He felt his mouth water at the memory of the taste of Link’s lips. 

Link looked up at Rhett from under his thick lashes, blue eyes imploring. He fastened one final button, right at Rhett’s breastbone, leaving the last two at the top undone, smoothing his hands over the front of the cloth, thumbs caressing Rhett’s collarbones. 

“You nervous?” Link asked, voice a whisper. If Rhett had been any further away from him he never would have heard the words. Rhett’s heart was racing, terrified of someone coming through the door, seeing them so close. Terrified of stepping back and never being this near Link again. He just wanted to continue breathing him in, basking in the warmth that Link radiated. 

Rhett nodded at his question, too afraid of upsetting the air between them to say anything more. 

“Don’t be scared,” Link murmured, inching closer. Rhett could feel the smaller man’s breath ghosting over his lips. “I won’t let anything happen to you out there. You’re going to be great.”

Rhett nodded again, head barely moving, eyes locked on Link’s lips. He willed the other man to make a move. To close the distance between them, or to step back and end this impasse. He couldn’t bring himself to do either. 

“Put your jacket on, bo.” Link said, eyes twinkling. “It’s time to bring the house down.” He stepped back, grabbing his own jacket off the back of the couch, turning to make his way out of the dressing room. 

Rhett’s eyes stung, heart in his throat. It took him a beat before he could gather himself, grabbing his new jacket and shrugging it on as he made his way out of the door. 

* * *

Rhett was twelve years old the first time his fingers strummed a guitar. His dad had bought it from a neighbor’s garage sale for him for four dollars. At fifteen he realized the instrument was out of tune. The guy at the local music store showed him how to adjust the knobs at the top, tightening and loosening until the strings reverberated _ just right _ and the notes sang triumphantly. The man was pleasantly surprised that Rhett could recognize the notes by ear. That moment, of figuring out how to tune a guitar, was the moment Rhett fell in love with music. He had never felt something more deeply in his life, never felt so whole. He vowed to chase that feeling down until his last breath. 

There were very few times in his life that ever came close to that moment, that was until Rhett found himself standing in front of an audience of nearly ten thousand screaming fans. He felt the roar of the crowd in his bones, shaking him so deeply it felt like it would stop his heart. The lights seared his skin, scorching hot, sweat pouring down his back, his jacket abandoned on the side stage three songs in. His throat felt ragged from singing, belting out choruses along with Link and Cuyler, to the point that he doubted he would be able to speak in the morning. His fingers ached with struggling to keep up with the tempo. He’d never been so tired in his life, the only thing keeping him upright was sheer adrenaline and the electricity between the crowd and the stage. 

He never felt so _ alive _. 

He watched Link saunter across the stage, playing rhythm while Rhett kept steady on lead. Link used the newfound freedom to connect with the audience, to entrance them, to leave them writhing, eating out of the palm of his hand, begging for another taste. 

Link pushed his guitar behind him, letting it rest on his back and grabbed his microphone. The crowd grew impossibly louder, it felt like the stage was shaking with the sound. 

_ Only two things in life that I wanna call mine, _

_ That’s the open road beneath me and my baby at my side. _

He paused, looking over the crowd, leaning over the edge of the stage, the flashing lights reflecting off of tiny rhinestones peppered over his dark blue shirt. He held his microphone out to the crowd, letting them sing the next lines back to him. 

_ When I’m wild runnin’ I ain’t even gotta try, _

The sound of the crowd swelled louder and Link’s face broke open into a dazzling smile. Rhett’s breath stuttered in his throat, heart racing, stomach fluttering at the sight. He’d never seen something quite so beautiful. 

_ Oh. _His body buzzed with an unfamiliar feeling, knees growing weak, he had to blink back tears forming in his eyes. 

Link turned to Rhett, eyes burning hot in his direction, moving toward him as if pulled by magnetic force. He crowded up into Rhett’s space, a microphone the only thing between them. They finished the last line together, voices in perfect harmony. 

_ That’s the thrill of it honey, we’re livin’ free until we die. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tour life on the bus was a marginal upgrade from life with the road crew. It might have even been enjoyable, if Rhett hadn’t been exactly four inches too tall to fully stretch out in his bunk. But even sleeping curled up on his side in a two foot wide box was better than being crammed into the back seat of the van.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Elizabeth for your endless encouragement.

Tour life on the bus was a marginal upgrade from life with the road crew. It might have even been enjoyable, if Rhett hadn’t been exactly four inches too tall to fully stretch out in his bunk. But even sleeping curled up on his side in a two foot wide box was better than being crammed into the back seat of the van.

They were on the way to Tallahassee when the air conditioner on the bus went out. The driver assured them that as soon as they got to their destination they would be able to get it fixed, but they were still two hundred miles away, and even at midnight, the air was stiflingly hot. For lack of anything better to do he was laying in his bunk, fiddling with his new AirPods. They were the first purchase he’d made with his new raise, finally retiring the busted pair of earbuds he’d been clinging onto for most of the tour.

“Rhett!” Cuyler called out, the bassist’s voice already wobbling with signs of inebriation. “Get’cher ass out here and drink with us.”

Rhett was still feeling his way around being invited onto the bus, not wanting his presence to impose or crowd the space of the other men. The other three band members had been perfectly happy to dress down to just a pair of jean or khaki shorts, stretch out in the back lounge, sipping tumblers of whiskey over ice, trying to stay cool in the wake of the humidity in the air.

Rhett poked his head out from behind the silk curtain, peering down the short hall lined with four bunks stacked on top of each other, down to the dimly lit lounge in the back of the bus. He made his way back, sitting on one of the couches opposite Link, accepting a glass when the smaller man offered it. His fingers slid over Link‘s on the cup, eliciting a grin that crinkled the corners of Link’s beautiful blue eyes.

Rhett felt himself blush, both at the smile, and the expanse of skin splayed out before him. He let his eyes roam over Link’s bare throat to the slope of his shoulder, he imagined ghosting his fingers over Link’s protruding collar bones and trailing down further to the valley of his chest.

“You okay there, buddyroll?” Link asked, voice husky from the burn of liquor. Caught, Rhett sat back, taking a gulp from his glass. Link just smirked at him, leaning back to rest against the cool leather, not taking his eyes off of Rhett’s face.

“He’s great!” Cuyler volunteered. “My man saved our _ necks!” _He leaned forward, very much off balance, and crashed his cup against Rhett’s in a sloppy cheers, splashing some of Rhett’s amber liquid onto the floor.

Kenny, the drummer, grunted in agreement, raising his own whiskey bottle up in a salud. “’m sure as shit not ready for this party to end.” He slurred and took another long glug out of his bottle.

Rhett just laughed, “Wow, I can see y’all got this party started without me.” He looked at the other two band members, both of whom already looked several drinks in. He looked back at Link. His cheeks were tinted pink, and eyes were just a touch glassy, but he was nowhere near as far gone as his mates.

Link was still staring at him, worrying the corner of his lip with his teeth as he considered Rhett. He had one hand on the glass he had perched on his knee, sitting criss cross in the seat. The other hand was resting against his belly, thumb brushing small circles on a patch of skin right above his belly button. Rhett was caught in a loop between tearing his eyes away from Link’s hypnotic thumb, up to his eyes, staring heatedly at Rhett’s face, then back down to his mouth, now glistening in the low light.

Rhett sipped his drink slowly, not trying to keep pace with the other men, he was clearly way too far behind. He laughed along with them as they complained about the heat, everyone’s skin sticking to the leather of the couch each time they moved.

Cuyler was the first to pass out, barely having the wherewithal to place his glass on the table to his left before his body gave in to the booze. He curled up in a fetal position, facing the back of the couch, neck curled against the armrest in a way that was sure to cause problems in the morning.

Kenny and Link were singing along to an old Conway Twitty album, the drummer somehow keeping perfect rhythm with the beat, despite being so far gone his voice is stumbling over the words.

Link’s voice rang smooth, strong, his evident buzz not quite as deep as the other man’s.

_ I don't know what I'm saying _ _   
_ _ As my trembling fingers touch forbidden places _

His eyes never left Rhett’s, peering at him from behind thick lashes and the frames of his glasses. He looked small and sweet, sitting cross legged on the couch, shirtless but with a sheen of sweat covering his chest.

Rhett’s own chest ached at the sound of his voice, the small gap of living space between them might have been an ocean for how unreachable Link was in that moment.

  
_ I only know that I've waited _ _   
_For so long for the chance that we are taking

He swallowed hard, trying to tamp down the urge to close the distance. It wasn’t the first time Link had sang to him, he could recognize that now. Whether with his own lyrics, or those of old masters, Link had found ways to say things that made it damn near impossible for Rhett to maintain the air of professionalism between them.

He tried to convey his own thoughts with his eyes. _ You’re not playing fair. _

From his place on other couch, Kenny slumped over, snoring lightly. The clatter of his empty bottle hitting the floor broke the spell between Rhett and Link. The taller man hopped up, headed toward the bathroom to escape the intensity of Link’s gaze.

Rhett stood in front of the mirror in the tiny bathroom, splashing cool water on his face, staring hard at his own reflection. He breathed deeply through his nose, holding it in while trying to still his racing heart. His cheeks were flushed, but he knew that had less to do with the sips of whiskey he drank and more to do with the man he couldn’t get out of his head.

He opened the door to the bathroom to find Link leaning a naked shoulder against the door jam.

“Hey.” He said, voice small. He reached a hand out, hooking a finger into Rhett’s belt loop, tugging gently. “Missed you.”

He cleared his throat, trying to keep a modicum of control. “I’m going to go to bed.”

“Okay.” Links answered. Instead of moving out of the way he stepped into Rhett’s space, his heavy sigh fanning over Rhett’s collar bone, pressing his hips forward. Rhett could feel Link, hard and straining against his jeans right against his thigh.

“_ Link _,” he hissed, grabbing his elbow. It took everything in him to step back and around Link, to put safe distance between them. He chanced a glance at Link’s face. Link just stared back at him, eyes glassy, cheeks reddened, brows knit together. Rhett wanted to kiss the pout off his face. Instead he hid himself away in his bunk, heart racing.

For a long moment there was no sound, then he could hear the creak of wood as Link crawled into his own bunk above Rhett’s and settled in.

Rhett held his breath. He heard the sound of a zipper, then a muffled groan, bed creaking above him. He felt his face burn. He grabbed his AirPods and shoved them quickly into his ears, trying to ignore the ache building between his thighs. It was a cruel joke that the track that began auto-playing had Link growling in his ears.

Minutes went by with Rhett trying to calm his thumping heart. He felt his phone buzz and he flipped it over, staring at the screen.

_ Link<3: we wont be on this tour forever. _

Then a moment later.

_ Link<3: im willing to wait if you are. _

  



	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By the time they made it to Atlanta, the review on the People Magazine website had gone viral. It was the first time the Lincoln Neal band had been featured in such a large mainstream publication, and their publicist was predictably over the moon. She hadn’t stopped sending Link texts and emails, saying they needed to capitalize on the momentum immediately. 
> 
> Rhett took it all in from the fringes, watching the band grow increasingly excited at the prospect of bigger interviews and being invited to perform at late night talk shows. Being slightly removed from everything, it was also easier for Rhett to see just how much this was affecting Roy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to captainsourwolf and enthusiastic audience for their constant hand holding. I love you both!

_ “...and while Roy Walker delivered his usual performance, tugging at the heartstrings of nostalgia with the older parts of the crowd, it was The Lincoln Neal band that fully stole the show. It’s no wonder why this band had been given so many accolades over the past year. The chemistry between Neal and his band mates was electric, whether it was the dueling guitar and drum solos, or sharing the mic with his guitarist during his most famous ballad, heat sizzled between them. Neal captivated his audience, playing them just as masterfully as he did his own instruments. It was little surprise how subdued the crowd seemed after the band left the stage.” _

  
  


By the time they made it to Atlanta, the review on the People Magazine website had gone viral. It was the first time the Lincoln Neal band had been featured in such a large mainstream publication, and their publicist was predictably over the moon. She hadn’t stopped sending Link texts and emails, saying they needed to capitalize on the momentum immediately. 

Rhett took it all in from the fringes, watching the band grow increasingly excited at the prospect of bigger interviews and being invited to perform at late night talk shows. Being slightly removed from everything, it was also easier for Rhett to see just how much this was affecting Roy. 

As the news grew better and better for Link, Roy seemed to be chasing the bottom of even more bottles, his annoyance growing into open hostility the more the young band celebrated. Rhett knew the moment he read the review that Roy wouldn’t be happy about it. It had painted him as an aging out-of-touch country star who was still trying to relive his glory days. 

“...thinks he’s some big hot shit rockstar now, don’t ‘e?” They caught him saying to Lenny, not sure if he thought he was being subtle or if he actively wanted them to overhear him. He was clutching a bottle of Maker’s Mark in one fist, bloated belly distended under an old white tank top. He looked the very picture of aging old country star. 

Link jumped at the chance to rile him up. “Rhett, you think I could get a jacket that says Hot Shit Rockstar in rhinestones for Fallon? Think we could put that in the rider?”

Rhett just smirked at him, trying not to outright laugh at Roy as his face turned puce. 

Roy sputtered in response, words slurring. “And if it ain’t fucken Cinderella. Yer li’l prince charming done swept you off yer feet, and now you think yer really somethin’ special, huh? Still ain’t nothin’ but a roadie. Hell, at this point yer no better than a damn groupie.” He spat, shooting looks of disgust between the two of them. 

Rhett could sense the moment Link tensed up. He reached a hand out to grip his wrist, thumbing the black rubber band Link still wore there. “Leave it.” He said quietly. 

Link’s body relaxed just a hair but he couldn’t stop himself from saying “Liver spots ain’t a good look for you, old man. Might want to slow your roll on that booze. Dried up old coots like you don’t sell tickets the way they used to.” His voice dripped with venom. 

Roy growled an angry guttural sound, throwing his bottle at them, just barely missing before he moved to lunge in their direction. Lenny caught him by the back of the shirt, reining him in before glowering over at Link, grizzled face contorted with pure fury. “Need I remind you who yer speakin’ to, boy?” His voice was low, dangerous, a warning. “Lest you forget, you work for  _ us _ , or you don’t work  _ at all.” _

Rhett could feel Link shudder from where his hand was still on his arm. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Link had tried to play the whole thing off, but Rhett could tell he was anxious after the interaction with Lenny and Roy, he just couldn’t quite put a finger on why. He knew the men were very powerful, but Link had never seemed intimidated by them before. Whatever the case was, Link brushed the subject aside and declared that they needed to go shopping for stage clothes. 

“I can’t let you perform on Fallon wearing...well... _ anything _ you own. No offense, man.” He had laughed. 

“Wait, I’m gonna be playin’ with y’all on Fallon?” Rhett had balked, face flaming red with his own excitement. 

“Well,  _ yeah _ man. You see anyone other guitarists layin’ around that we could use? Besides, you’re a thousand times better than Kirk  _ ever  _ was.” Link’s voice was so sincere Rhett could feel the blush creep further down his neck. 

They took an Uber into town. Unlike the last time they found themselves in this position, the driver took absolutely no notice of them. Link allowed his leg to press along side of Rhett’s, warm and comforting. Rhett did not pull away, and instead let himself relax, leaning into Link just a little so that their arms were also nestled together. He chanced a shy glance over at Link. The smaller man’s mouth was turned up at the corner, an obvious grin on his face. It felt good, but dangerous, like hiding in plain sight.

“Sandy gave me explicit instructions to make sure you look good on tv.” Link said, breaking the long stretch of silence. 

“Sandy?” Rhett asked, his train of thought was interrupted by the statement. 

“She’s our publicist. She basically told me to spare no expense, get you new clothes, new shoes. Whatever you needed. This probably won’t be the last time we get a chance to be on TV, so we all have to be prepared,  _ Cinderella.”  _ He laughed, the magical sound made Rhett’s stomach flip. He wanted to hear it again. “Gotta get you ready for the ball.” 

They arrived at Ponce City Market and immediately found a menswear store. The store clerk recognized Link immediately, but maintained a distinct air of professionalism. Rhett was grateful for that. He took measurements for them both then set out to find an assortment of shirts to fit their unique sizes. Both men browsed the store’s selection of shoes as the clerk set up their dressing rooms. 

Rhett stood in front of a full length mirror, foot resting on a small ottoman so that he could admire the suede navy loafer he had slipped his foot into. Link came up behind him, locking eyes with the taller man. Rhett cleared his throat. “What do you think of my glass slipper?” He asked, eyes twinkling with mirth. 

“Not bad considering they cost three hundred and ninety five dollars.” Rhett’s jaw dropped and Link rolled his eyes before taking Rhett’s hand, guiding him over to one of the dressing rooms. Rhett looked down at their combined fingers, digits interlocked. He felt a warm heat pool in his belly. He felt a spell of something blooming between them, and as much as he wanted to cling to the sensation, there was something weighing heavily on his mind. 

He dropped Link’s hand when they entered the spacious dressing room, taking a seat on a plush Chesterfield sofa while Link sorted through the shirts, holding them up to the light. 

“Link,” Rhett started, clearing his throat when his voice broke over the word.

“Hm?” 

“Earlier, Lenny said something that I can’t really get out of my head.” He watched Link hang a red button-down shirt on one of the garment hooks next to a heather grey blazer. “He said you either worked for them, or you didn’t work at all. What’d he mean by that? It seemed like it really upset you.”

Link stilled, clearly not anticipating Rhett’s question. His shoulders tensed and he let his hands drop to his sides. He turned away, but Rhett could still see him in the mirrors that surrounded the room. 

“They own me.” He finally admitted, voice impossibly small. “They own everything. My words, my music. Every song I’ve ever written, they own the rights to ‘em all.” 

Rhett felt a cold chill envelope him. He saw how drawn in Link had made himself, and he wrestled with the urge to get up and comfort him. “How...how did...how did that  _ happen _ ?”

When Link turned to look at him Rhett did not anticipate the tears in his eyes, did not expect to feel the lurch of his heart when he saw the tremble of Link’s lips. 

“I was in my twenties. I moved to Nashville with my guitar and three sets of clothes and absolutely no plan.” He shuddered hard, wiping tears off his face. For the first time since Rhett had met him, Link couldn’t look him in the eye. “I was working three jobs, and one of ‘em was at this publishing house. I just wanted to get my songs heard. I wanted to work in music, even if I wasn’t the one singing my songs. I thought, hell, if I could get someone,  _ anyone _ , to sing my stuff, well then I’d be the happiest person in the world.” He laughed a humourless chuckle. 

Rhett watched him lean back against the glass mirror, tilting his head up as if that would stop the flow of tears. Rhett’s heart ached. He had to swallow hard around the lump building in his throat. 

“Lenny was friends with the guy that owned the Publishing group. He showed him a few of my songs, and they brought them to Roy. I told you about that one song. I...I didn’t know any better, didn’t know what I was doing. Basically, everything I write while I’m part of the Lincoln Neal band is theirs. They own all of it. I’m a slave to my own name.” 

He turned his eyes back to Rhett, blue orbs blazing hot on his face. “That’s why they  _ can’t _ know about our song. They can’t ever know about any of that, because if they do, it’s theirs.” Link walked right up to Rhett, standing in the gap of Rhett’s knees, looking down at him, cupping his face in hands, delicate fingers soft of Rhett’s cheeks. “I can’t stand the thought of something you and I made together belonging to that piece of shit. We  _ can’t _ let that happen.” Rhett just nodded, eyes fixated on Link’s face, unable to say anything else. 

Link dropped his hands again, walking back over to the garment hooks, working the buttons on the red shirt open. “It took me a long time to learn how to be Lincoln and not  _ Link _ .” He said. “Roy liked to remind me all the time that I  _ worked _ for him. I remember, at some point I realized he just didn’t understand sarcasm at all. He’d basically given me a list of chores to do before the show that night, and I looked it over and I joked ‘want me to give you a blow job too, just to round out the list?’ I’ve never seen a man actually turn  _ purple  _ before _ .  _ Secretly though I think he liked the idea, ‘cause after that I caught him lookin’ at my mouth. A lot.” This time he did laugh, but not like before. His laugh sounded disgusted. 

Rhett cleared his throat, face flaming red at the thought. There had been several times where he had not been able to stop his own mind from wandering down that same avenue. 

Link pulled the shirt down, walked over to Rhett with it held open, gesturing for him to try it on. He could tell what Rhett was thinking and a sly grin bloomed on his face. He let his voice drop to a low growl. “Well, when  _ you’re _ lookin, I’m usually thinkin’ the same thing.”

Link had never been so forward before. He usually stuck to shy smiles and flirty touches. Hearing him voice such a thought out loud left Rhett completely breathless, heart racing. He didn’t know what to say, so he pulled his shirt over his head, taking the button-down from Link’s hands. Link was so close to him. “We keep finding ourselves in this situation, huh?” He laughed. 

Link laughed too, shaking his head. He stood back and let Rhett button himself up, then handed him the blazer, watching him intently while he dressed himself. The blazer was, miraculously, too long on his arms. The tour’s tailor would have to make that right before they got to New York. 

  
  


“For a long time,” Link stopped, pausing to take a gulping breath. “For a long time, I wished that I said no to the deal. I wished that I hadn’t let myself get trapped under the thumb of a hypocritical bigot like Roy. I didn’t see the signs until it was too late. I wished I hadn’t been so eager to latch onto anything that could get my name out there.” 

He waited while Rhett removed the blazer, handing it back to him to hang on the garment hook. Rhett began to unbutton the fasteners again while Link continued. “I’ve taught myself not to think that way anymore.” He caught Rhett’s eyes in the mirror before pressing on, his voice a whisper. “If I hadn’t made those stupid fuckin’ mistakes back then, I wouldn’t be here, in this dressing room with you right now.”

Rhett turned to him just as Link stepped into his space, crowding close as Rhett wrapped his arms around him, holding him close to his exposed chest. Link pressed his face into Rhett’s neck, lips finding his pulse, delivering a warm kiss soft into his skin. Rhett didn’t pull back this time. Instead he held him close, his own lips finding the top of Link’s head, pressing his own unspoken promise into the smaller man’s salt and pepper hair. They stood there, holding each other tightly, a few gentle touches all they could give each other in this very public space. 

Link broke the silence first, warm breath ghosting over Rhett’s ear. “We’re gonna be in Raleigh next week. I really wanna show you my town. We can get away from all’a this for a bit.”

Rhett shivered, somehow pulling Link’s body even closer to his own, every part of him, hard and soft, searing hot against him. “I’d love that.”

They both pulled away, turning back to sorting clothes, both feeling the electricity crackling between them. 

Raleigh seemed like a promise. 

  
  



	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The entire crew was looking forward to having three days off in Raleigh. Many of them, especially those who worked directly for the Lincoln Neal Band, lived in the city or in the surrounding area. They were anxious to see their families, to spend three blissful days at home before heading further up into the northern states.

The entire crew was looking forward to having three days off in Raleigh. Many of them, especially those who worked directly for the Lincoln Neal Band, lived in the city or in the surrounding area. They were anxious to see their families, to spend three blissful days at home before heading further up into the northern states. 

Link was practically buzzing with excitement every time anyone even mentioned the word Raleigh. “Man, I can’t _wait_ to stretch out on my own bed. I’m even excited to drink a glass of my own tap water.” A bright smile lit his face as he stared across the picnic table at Rhett. “Is that weird?”

Rhett was strumming his acoustic guitar to a tune that he’d dreamt up the night before. They’d slowly started building songs together any chance they got, combining Rhett’s melodies with Link’s powerful lyrics. They’d come up with a handful of songs they were both excited about. 

“It’s a little weird, bud.” Rhett grinned back. He liked seeing this side of Link, unabashedly happy and excited. Things had been extremely turbulent between Link and Roy ever since they left Atlanta. It was making Link anxious, constantly on edge. He and Rhett had both done their best to stay out of the older man’s way, but try as they might, it seemed like Lenny was lurking around every corner they ducked around. Heated words had been exchanged with regularity.

Between them on the picnic table Link’s phone began to buzz incessantly, though neither of them bothered to concern themselves with it. 

“You can come stay with me if you want.” Link’s voice was low, conspiratorial, but tinged with a flirty lilt. “You don’t have to stay at the hotel, I’ve got plenty of room.”

Rhett’s felt his face heat up. He couldn’t help the tiny smile that turned up the corner of his lip as Link continued talking. “We can head there after we hit the bar tomorrow night.”

Rhett had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the thought of a night out with the crew. He still wasn’t crazy about going to the bars with the other men. He felt anxious enough to be surrounded by them during the day when they were sober. It was quite another thing to be around them when they were fueled by liquor, tongues loose and shame nowhere to be found. 

Rhett distracted himself by looking at the still-buzzing phone. He stared at it for a moment before looking back up at Link’s grinning face. 

In a lot of ways, this was Link’s homecoming. It was incredibly special to him to be back in this place where he felt safe and happy. Rhett never felt such an attachment to a place the way Link did with Raleigh. Home was wherever he could find a cheap lease and a job to get him through to the next phase of his life. Rhett felt honored that Link would open his home to him, to show him his sanctuary. 

“I can’t wait.” He grinned down at Link, and he was surprised by how much he meant it. He nodded his head towards the phone, still buzzing occasionally with alerts. “Maybe you should see what that’s all about.”

Link sighed but picked up his phone, unlocked it and let out a sharp gasp. “Oh shit!” He practically screamed.

“What?!” Rhett exclaimed back, worry in his voice. “Are you okay? What happened!” He couldn’t stop the rush of intrusive thoughts that filtered through his brain. 

Link thrust the phone at Rhett with shaking hands. 

_Sandy: Lincoln I need you to call me immediately._   
_Sandy: it’s urgent._   
_Sandy: Call me NOW!_   
_Sandy: Okay you’re not answering so I’m just going to tell you here. Marshall Turner wants to meet with you._  
_Sandy: THE Marshall Tuner._   
_Sandy: he wants to meet with you while you’re in Raleigh to talk about co-headlining a tour with him. There’s a rumor he’s scouting you for his label. This is HUGE LINCOLN!_   
_Sandy: this is CRISIS level where ARE YOU?!_  
_Sandy: CALL ME BACK!!!_

Just as Rhett finished reading the string of texts the phone began to buzz again with another incoming call. Sandy’s name lit up the screen. Rhett thrust the phone quickly at Link, yelling “Answer it, bo!” 

Link grabbed the phone, answering it with a croaky “Hello!?” 

_“Lincoln! Thank goodness you finally answered!”_ Rhett could just barely make out the words that the tinny voice was saying. _“Marshall Turner wants to meet with you tomorrow evening! This is HUGE! He wants you on his tour, can you believe it?! And his people have been in contact saying they’re wanting to buy you out of your contract with Roy! Did I mention that this is HUGE!”_

The woman didn’t take a single breath, she just plowed right through. 

_“I’ve arranged everything already. He’s going to meet you at that bar you like on Blount Street, The Pour House. And you’re going to turn on the trademarked Lincoln Neal Charm and make damn sure he knows you’re the perfect addition to the lineup.”_

Link was staring at Rhett, stunned into silence.

_“Let the other guys know, too. They all need to be on their A-Game. Make sure Cuyler doesn’t get piss-drunk before the meeting. And make sure Rhett wears something really nice. Stylish. buy him something new if you have to. I want y’all looking your damn best.”_

Rhett’s heart lurched at her words. She considered him a _part_ of the band. She wanted _him_ to help impress Marshall Turner. Something in him swelled with a sense of pride he hadn’t felt in a very long time. It felt incredible but it paled in comparison to how his heart felt when he took in the look of absolute hope on Link’s face.

* * *

The bar was packed full for a Thursday night, dark and warm, the flashing lights giving just a glimpse of what was going on around the room. Rhett suspected that it had slipped that someone important was rumored to be coming in tonight. When they got to the bar there had only been one open table. Lenny immediately claimed it for Roy and the other Walker band mates. 

The younger guys didn’t seem to mind. Link, Cuyler and Kenny were enjoying the attention of people asking for photos, girls pressing themselves hard against them. Some of the women were even bold enough to ask for autographs across their exposed cleavage. It made Rhett laugh to see the other men flustered. They were doing their best to play into the big rockstar image, but he could see they were just this side of overwhelmed, nervous energy coursing through them in anticipation for their meeting. He laughed every time Link stammered out a ‘th-thank you, Miss!’ or when Cuyler accidentally spilled his drink on Kenny when a young lady asked to kiss his cheek. 

Roy was watching from his table, sinking steadily into a bottle of McKenna that the bar owner had brought over. When the strobe lights hit him just right, Rhett could see that his face was glowing sweaty and red, and the more he watched the younger men, the more he seemed to boil with rage. 

Rhett watched Lenny bring over girl after girl to the table to distract Roy, but each time he did, they’d take a look at the old man, red face grimacing, and they’d back pedal, finding their friends, looking over their shoulder at the aging old man, bullet effectively dodged. He watched Roy stumble out of the booth, shaking Lenny off, yelling over the music that he needed to take a piss. 

“Rhett!” Link worked his way back through the crowd, finally squeezing up to the hightop table Rhett was leaning against. He had six shots of brown liquor held between two sets of fingers. “Brought you some mezcal. S’posed to be the best in the city.” His face was lit up, not only by the flashing lights of the bar, but by the general feeling of joy that seemed to radiate through the room. 

Rhett took three of the shots out of Link’s hands, setting them in front of him on the bar top. He was incredibly grateful for the knowledge that just outside they had a car service waiting for them. A big black SUV just waiting to whisk them all away tonight, no fear of impairment. He had a feeling that after their meeting with Marshall ended, all hell might break loose with the partying. He held up the first shot glass toward Link. “Dink it?”

“And Sink it!” Link called out, a grin breaking out over his already flushed face. Both men knocked back all three shots in quick succession. The burn felt amazing in his throat, almost as great as the warmth that quickly spread through him. 

The sea of people parted as a man, larger than life in tight jeans, cowboy boots and a grey Henley made his way through them, a hush falling over the crowd as he passed by. 

Link breathed a quiet “_it’s him_” before standing up straight, moving forward to shake the man’s hand. 

“Lincoln! My man!” Marshall’s big booming voice rose above the noise of the crowd. “Great to meet ya, brother, I’m Marshall Turner! Been trying to get a meeting with ya for a while!” He shook hands with Link, who honestly looked completely starstruck. 

Kenny and a Cuyler joined them. More formal introductions were made and more drinks were ordered. The bar management got them a table and Marshall told them stories about his last tour, getting everyone cackling with laughter. 

“So of course that’s when I had to kick her out of the hotel room. It’s one thing to ask to take a selfie, it’s another to take pictures of a buck ass naked man when he’s sleepin’! My lawyers had a damn field day with that one.”

The whole table erupted in genuine laughter, cheering with their beer bottles or shot glasses. Even Rhett felt more at ease in front of this country music Megastar in just half an hour than he had ever felt around Roy. 

“But anyway,” Marshall’s face got serious for a moment. “I didn’t come here to tell y’all about my booty call. I wanted to talk to you about a tour. You’ve got about a month left on this run. And I know y’all probably deserve a nice long break, but we really want to hit the road by August, right before colleges are back in session.” He paused to take a long drag off his beer, then pressed on, locking eyes with Link. “Y’all ‘ll get a nice little pay increase from what I hear of it. We really want to getcha on our tour. Whatta ya say?” 

To his credit, Rhett thought Link was doing a great job of keeping his cool. He had a small smile playing on his lips, but didn’t look as excited as Rhett suspected he actually was. Link also took another drag from his beer, giving himself a moment to mull things over. Just as he opened his mouth to respond, the heavy thud of a body knocked into the table. Simultaneously the occupants of the table shot to their feet as Roy gathered himself back up, glaring at them through dropping eyes.. 

“You think you wan’ this fuckin’ lil cocksucker on tour wit’cha?” He snarled, mouth slick with spit, pointing a shaking hand at Link. He glared at Marshall, who looked alarmed, not realizing the older man would have heard them. 

Roy stood on wobbling legs, a hand reaching out to roughly grab Link’s shoulder, fingers digging into his muscle. “This little queer’s been nothin’ but trouble, walkin’ aroun’ like a lil fuckin’ cocktease.” Link gasped loudly in pain, jerking his body back, face twisted in mortification. Roy stumbled, thrusting his arm out again, attempting to pull Link back toward him. Rhett felt blind fury surge through him. It felt like all of the air in the bar had been sucked out, leaving his veins coursing with boiling blood. On pure instinct He cocked his arm back, launching it forward with all his might, connecting with a sickening thud to Roy’s red faced jaw. 

A hush fell over the room as Roy collapsed, hitting the floor nearly instantly. Rhett’s hand throbbed, burning with the contact. Link grabbed his arm and Rhett turned to look at him, barely registering the panic written on his face. “Rhett, what… why did- “ 

“Shit, Lenny’s comin’ over here!” Cuyler gasped from their right. 

Marshall stepped forward, over Roy’s body and roughly grabbed both of their shoulders. He whispered to them “y’all boys get outta here. Go! I’ll call Sandy and she can deal with this horseshit.” 

Rhett felt completely stunned, still glued to the spot, pain radiating from his hand up into his wrist. He was staring at the lump of a man lying on the ground, spilled liquor and broken glass decorating the floor around him. He could feel Link pulling insistently on his arm, tugging him away as the crowd seemed to press in closer. Through the rushing of blood in his ears he could hear Lenny screaming in the background. 

He was still shaking as Link pushed him into the back of the waiting SUV, climbing in behind him and barking at the driver. “227 Foxwood... Just _drive_!” He yelled when the man didn’t move fast enough. He hit the button to raise the blacked out partition, giving them a small sense of privacy. 

Rhett was barely registering Link’s words as the smaller man examined his hand. He just looked into his face, memorizing each curve of bone and flesh, looking fragile and worried. His hands were soft and delicate on Rhett’s skin. He could still hear a stabbing echo of Link’s pained shout when Roy had grabbed him. Link was staring back at him, icy blue eyes searching his own for something there in the dark back seat. For a moment, time stood perfectly still. Rhett felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Link surged forward, their lips crashing together in frenzy before Rhett could think twice about it. Link’s lips were so supple against his, the feel of them sparking something in his chest he couldn’t quite name. He tasted exactly like Rhett remembered from that night that seemed ages ago. He tasted like whiskey, like pure sin. Rhett knew he’d never get enough of it. 

Link’s hands found themselves in the golden curls of hair at the nape of Rhett’s neck, angling his body over Rhett’s hips until he had his full weight in the bigger man’s lap. Rhett’s hands gripped tight in the fabric of Link’s shirt between his shoulder blades, using it to pull his lean body right up against his own. He groaned when Link pushed his hips forward, the evident bulge in his jeans pressing into Rhett’s already hard cock. 

Link took full advantage of Rhett’s moan, licking into his open mouth with a hunger that Rhett felt all the way in his gut. Link bit at his lips, breathing rough and ragged when he finally pulled back, just far enough to break their kiss, pressing his forehead against Rhett’s. 

Rhett spoke first, voice barely above a whisper, warm breath fanning over Link’s swollen lower lip. “What are we gonna do?” He hated the shake in his voice. He wanted to be strong, brave. He wrapped his arms tightly around Link’s waist, anchoring him to his body. 

“I don’t give a fuck, honestly.” Link whispered back, pressing more desperate kisses to Rhett’s mouth. “I’m so fucking done with that asshole. I’ll never play another song again if it means I can be rid of him.” He paused again, chuckling against Rhett’s mouth, shifting his hips in Rhett’s lap. “He dropped like a bag of fucking potatoes”

Rhett’s heart shuddered hard in his chest. He pulled Link hard against him, burying his face in the curve of his neck. He spoke muffled words into soft spot under Link’s ear. “I wanted to kill him. When he grabbed you? I thought I was going to rip him apart, Link.” He pressed a gentle kiss to the shell of Link’s ear. 

Link pulled at Rhett’s hair, dragging him back enough to press a hungry kiss to his mouth once again, his smooth tongue gliding along his lower lip, begging for Rhett to open up for him again.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhett didn’t think he’d ever get over the taste of Link’s kiss, nipping at his lips, tongue licking hotly into the smaller man’s mouth. He wanted to memorize every corner, every little whimper that he dragged out of him. He loved the way Link kissed the corner of Rhett’s mouth, along his cheek, finding his way to his ear. He bit at the soft spot just below it, leaving hot trails all along Rhett’s neck.

Rhett didn’t think he’d ever get over the taste of Link’s kiss, nipping at his lips, tongue licking hotly into the smaller man’s mouth. He wanted to memorize every corner, every little whimper that he dragged out of him. He loved the way Link kissed the corner of Rhett’s mouth, along his cheek, finding his way to his ear. He bit at the soft spot just below it, leaving hot trails all along Rhett’s neck. 

Rhett was breathless, every inch of skin that Link touched burned at the contact. He took shallow breaths, hands roaming under Link’s shirt, stroking his fingertips over the soft skin covering Link’s ribs. 

Link was playing dirty, grinding his hips down hard against Rhett’s, the hands on his shoulder pushing him back into the soft black suede of the couch. He looked so beautiful, face highlighted in the soft glow of a single lamp, the lights of the city shining but muted by the shades of the window. 

Rhett spent a lot of time trying to steal glances of Link during their day to day life, but here, in the quiet of Link’s little studio apartment, he could drink his fill. He could memorize the delicate bones of his cheeks, the slope of his nose. He could carve into his memory the way the bow of Link’s lips curved into a smile when Rhett lined their cocks together, pushing his hips up against him. 

“Wanted you the second I saw you.” Link whimpered against Rhett’s mouth, one hand gently curling around the back of Rhett’s neck, the other working open the buttons of his shirt. He pressed filthy wet kisses to Rhett’s mouth between the words. “It was like you fell out of my imagination, tall as hell, strong, playing a damn guitar. Fucking gorgeous. Constantly wanted to be near you. Kept trying to get close, but you’d run away every damn time I tried to talk to you.”

Rhett whined, face turning pink. He hid his shyness by pulling Link’s shirt up and over his head, finally revealing the smooth expanse of skin his fingers had been exploring. “I wanted you too. Watched you all the time. I couldn’t stop looking at you. I was terrified of you and I just didn’t know why.” He knew that was a lie. He knew the moment he saw Link, the first time they locked eyes, he knew he wanted to be near him, under him, exactly like this. “Never wanted anyone as bad as I want you. All of you.” _ Forever, _he thought, but didn’t dare say out loud. 

Link growled, crushing his mouth against his once again before pushing Rhett’s shirt down, off his shoulders and out of the way. His hands fell to the waist of Rhett’s pants, jerking the button open, pulling the zipper down. Rhett’s hands were shaking, trying to keep up, trying to reach for Link’s waist as well. Link batted his hands out of the way, reaching a hand into Rhett’s boxers and pulling his swollen cock out. “Fuck.” he gasped, gazing down in reverence at the smooth, thick member leaking in his hand. “God, every part of you is beautiful,” he whispered in awe. “C’mere” He pulled himself off of Rhett’s lap, leading him the few feet across the room to Link’s waiting bed. 

Link pressed his mouth to Rhett’s again, both of them unable to resist the fact that now they _ could _ kiss each other as much as they wanted. He let his hands find Rhett’s hips, one hand gripping tightly at the flesh and muscle, thumb caressing his hip bone. The other hand pushed at the rough denim, shoving it down and over Rhett’s ass, letting the cloth hit the floor. He grabbed his cock again, stroking it once, letting his thumb tease the moistened slit, groaning into Rhett’s mouth. “I want to taste every single part of you”

Rhett’s body shuddered, knees threatening to buckle under him at the prospect. Link pushed him onto the bed, encouraging him to scoot backward, giving them both space to settle in. Link was staring up at his face, pupils blown wide with lust, mouth bruised from Rhett’s kisses. He looked like he wanted to devour Rhett, and he was all too willing to let him do so. 

He pushed Rhett’s thighs apart, exposing every hidden inch to his starving eyes. He held his cock tightly in his hand, examining it, tracing the throbbing vein along the side with his thumb. He stared up into Rhett’s eyes. Rhett could feel a blush staining his face and throat. He’d been in this position before, but never with a man. And never with someone he wanted so badly. A shiver ran through him at the thought. _ I can have him. He’s all mine. _

In a surprising turn, Link leaned forward, mouthing at the base of Rhett’s swollen cock, sucking hard at the dimpled flesh there, breathing in deeply through his nose as he did so. He groaned, mouth vibrating against Rhett’s sensitive flesh. He suckled there, his hand moving up the shaft toward Rhett’s head, squeezing out a thick bead of wet from the tip. 

Rhett was torn, eyes wanting to squeeze shut, but he wouldn’t dare. He couldn’t miss a moment of watching the man before him, indulging himself in all that _ was _ Rhett, tongue roaming obscenely up along the underside of his cock. 

Link locked eyes with him as he circled his tongue around his tip, collecting the glistening precum, moaning at the taste. Rhett didn’t know what to do with his own hands, clenching one fist tightly in the sheets, the other reaching out to cup Link’s jaw. He didn’t know how he was expected to last while Link did this, he was already shaking and on the verge. 

Link took him into his scorching hot mouth, lips wrapped tight around the head, cheeks hollowing with every forceful suck. He trailed his thumb from Link’s jaw to his mouth, tracing the stretch of his lips around his own cock. He couldn’t stop his hips from thrusting up, but Link didn’t seem to mind. He was singularly focused on drawing out every delicious sound he could from Rhett’s mouth. 

“Fuck, _ fuck _ , Link! God, baby, I can’t take it. _ Fuck!” _Rhett was rambling, nearly incoherent with the way his body was being consumed by fire. Link’s eyes lit up in delight, pulling away from his cock, mouth swollen and smeared with a filthy mix of spit and precum. 

“I ain’t even gotten started yet and you’re already _ wrecked _, baby. I guess I better slow down a little bit.” He smirked, pushing Rhett’s right leg up, spreading him open. He grabbed the base of his cock with his other hand, taking time to gently gather his balls into the same fist, clearing the way for his wandering mouth.

Rhett didn’t think his skin could get any hotter, but with the first swipe of Link’s exploring tongue along the slick skin of his taint, every nerve in his body activated, goosebumps erupting along his thighs and stomach. Link pulled back just long enough to tell him, voice husky and dripping with lust “I’ve wanted to taste you since that night in the hotel. Never thought you’d let me get close enough, but when you fucking kissed me, I knew I needed the taste of you on my lips forever.” 

Link moved back in, tongue probing the tight rim of his entrance, moaning at the feel of Rhett’s twitching flesh against his lips. He lavished Rhett with attention, getting him sloppy wet, pushing the tip of his tongue into the circle of muscle. Rhett could barely handle the feeling, body trembling with waves of sensation, eyes watering from the force of trying to stay open. He fisted his hand in Link’s hair and held on. The feel of Link’s tongue on him was incredible, but Rhett’s thoughts were focused on his words, turning them over and over again in his mind. _ The taste of you _ and _ forever _. It was enough to make his heart constrict, enough to steal his breath. He pulled gently on Link’s hair, tugging his mouth away. They both groaned at the loss of contact, but he needed to hear it. 

“Tell me more, Link. Tell me what else you’ve wanted. I _ need _ to hear it.” He whispered into the electrified air between them. He needed to hear every thought Link hadn’t been able to share with him in the months they had been orbiting each other. 

Link stared up at him, a look of adoration on his face. He crawled up, over Rhett’s body until they were face to face with each other. “I’ve spent months thinking about being inside you. Thinking about making you cry out, holding you down underneath me while I fucked deep into you. That what you want to hear?” He crushed their mouths together, tongue dipping in past Rhett’s lips. 

Rhett’s mind went white hot with the thought. That, combined with the fact that he could taste _ himself _ on Link’s tongue, had him begging for it. “Please, Link. _ Yes. _ Fuck, I want… I need you. _ Please!” _

“You sure?” Link breathed against his lips. “I want you so bad, but I don’t want to go too fast.”

Rhett nipped at Link’s lips, reaching both hands down to work open his belt, then the button of his pants. “We’ve been waiting for _ too fucking long _.”

Link just grinned at him, batting his hands away and hopping up off the bed. He made short work of divesting himself of his jeans, then walked over to his little wooden nightstand. He opened the drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube. “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you’ve never done this before, huh?”

Rhett shook his head _ no, _propping himself up on his elbows to watch Link settle back down on the bed. Link nodded, settling back down between Rhett’s thighs, “Hold your leg up for me, baby.” 

Rhett felt a thrill at the use of the pet name, he felt his stomach flutter as a smile bloomed over his face. He pulled his leg back, hooking an arm around it while he watched Link pour lube into his palm. His cock twitched at the sight of Link slicking up two fingers. “You gotta let me know if it’s too much, if you need me to stop. Okay?” 

Rhett nodded, breathing deeply through his nose to try and steady his racing heart. He sucked his lower lip in between his teeth as Link ran the calloused tips of his fingers along the Rhett’s perineum, down to the textured skin of his entrance. 

“Okay?”

“Yes, _ fuck, _ do it. _ ” _

Link didn’t waste a moment, both watching intently as his long middle digit sunk into him, not stopping until it was buried down to Link’s knuckles. “How’sat, baby? Feel okay?” He dragged them digit back out slowly, almost completely out, then pushed all the way back in, a little more forcefully this time. 

“Feels good. Feels, ahh, feels like I need _more_.” 

Link chuckled, “Alright cowboy.” He slid in a second finger, adding a little twist of the wrist to his thrust that had Rhett gasping for air. Link’s fingers were hitting something inside him, something that was making him sweat, making his back arch off the bed, grinding his hips down onto Link’s fingers, searching for more. More pressure, more speed, more _ anything _ to soothe the aching need building up in him. 

Link was watching him so closely, a tiny grin tugging at his bruised lips every time he earned a moan from him. “You’re takin’ this so good, Rhett. Love knowing that I’m making you feel good. Wanna do this every day, forever. Want to be the only person who ever makes you feel like this.” He surged forward, pressing his mouth to the seam of Rhett’s balls, sucking the warm textured skin into his mouth. 

“Link! Fuck, I’m fucking _ yours _.” He let his head fall back against the bed, giving up trying to watch. The sight of Link between his legs was so filthy, so amazing, he couldn’t stand it any more. “Baby, please. That’s enough, I’m ready!” He leaned forward again, wrapping a hand around Link’s bicep, pulling him up. 

Link drew his fingers out, staring down at Rhett, breaths coming in tiny huffs. He used his clean had to cup Rhett’s chin, tilting his face up, capturing his lips in a sweet kiss. “Don’t be mad at me if it’s over too soon. I’ve been fantasizing about this every night for months.” Link pushed his legs apart again, spreading him open, Rhett’s cock resting against his belly, already leaking wet. 

“I’ll go slow.” He said, slicking a big handful of lube over his dick. He was longer than Rhett, not quite as thick. He was definitely thicker than a couple of fingers. He held his cock in his hand, running his head up and down the crack of Rhett’s ass, skating over his puckered hole, up and around his taint and balls, caressing every inch of his scrotum. 

“Link, do it.” Rhett demanded, pushing his hips up towards Link’s leaking head. Link lined his cock up against the glistening ring of muscle, pressing in in in, slowly. They both watched as Rhett’s body gave way. 

“Okay?” Link repeated, voice breathless but tinged with worry.

The burn of the stretch was almost too much. Rhett felt like he couldn’t breathe, his eyes watering. He felt like every thought, every nerve was tuned into the feeling of Link splitting him open. He croaked out a shaky _ “More.” _

Link pressed in further, the sting giving away to a strange sense of fullness. It was overwhelming, the feeling of being joined with Link in a way that was so intimate. Link pulled almost all the way out before pushing his hips forward, and in one slick movement, he sank in fully, bottoming out. They both groaned and Link reached a hand out, wrapping his fingers around the back of Rhett’s neck, holding him in place, pressing their mouths together. 

He rocked his hips harder, this time the tight feeling of _ too much _ melted into _ oh fuck, _dragging a ragged moan from Rhett’s throat. 

“Fuck baby, that’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.” His hips stuttered, speeding up of their own accord. “You _ are _ mine. Fucking made for me. Made to fit around me like this.” 

Rhett could barely register what Link was saying to him, couldn't form words, could barely breathe as Link sped up, changing the angle just _ so _ , causing white hot heat to spread along every nerve in Rhett’s body. “That’s the spot, huh Rhett? Yeah. _ Fuck. _ Your _ face _baby. Never seen somethin’ so beautiful.” Link wrapped his hand right around Rhett’s rigid shaft, pumping him in time with the press of his hips. 

Rhett was teetering on the verge of something he couldn’t name, he felt engulfed in heat, breathless. He couldn’t discern where Link ended and he began, he’d never been so close to another person before. He drank in the sight of Link’s face. He looked as wrecked as Rhett felt. 

His heart clenched in his chest, he swallowed hard around the the sudden lump in his throat. 

“I love you,” Rhett whispered, the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them. The moment he said them, he knew without a doubt they were absolutely true. 

Link’s face crumpled and he choked out a sob, falling forward, pressing the full length of his body to Rhett’s. He caught Rhett’s mouth in a searing kiss. “I’m _ so _ in love with you, bo.” He cried against his lips, losing control and slamming his hips up into Rhett’s. 

It felt like the world erupted around him, bright flashes of color exploding behind his eyelids as his orgasm crashed into him, releasing hot cum between their stomachs. He could feel Link pulsing inside him, spilling molten hot, deep inside. 

Link buried his face in his neck, body shaking. Rhett held him close, tangling their limbs together. They savored the moment, content to wrap around each other, breathing each other in and ignoring all that would come tomorrow. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhett huffed a tiny laugh and hauled Link’s leg up further, pulling him in even closer. He kissed the top of his head, fingers ghosting along the nape of his neck. “Mornin’.” He couldn’t even try to keep the sound of his smile out of his voice, arms tightening around Link’s body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always to Elizabeth, you've held my hand through all of this and I'm so grateful.

The tide of wakefulness pulled at Rhett slowly. He was surrounded by a pleasant warmth, a delicious pressure of weight splayed over his torso. _ Link _ , he remembered with a smile. His hands found miles of smooth skin to caress, palms exploring peaks of soft flesh and muscle. One hand found the valley of Link’s back, thumb tracing the bumps of his spine, his other hand coming around to tease his fingertips along Link’s ribcage. He wanted to commit each divot to memory.

“mm’tickles.” Link nuzzled his face further into the bend of Rhett’s shoulder, a leg coming up to wrap around Rhett’s thigh. “Please don’t stop.” 

Rhett huffed a tiny laugh and hauled Link’s leg up further, pulling him in even closer. He kissed the top of his head, fingers ghosting along the nape of his neck. “Mornin’.” He couldn’t even try to keep the sound of his smile out of his voice, arms tightening around Link’s body. 

Link didn’t respond, instead he pressed his mouth hotly to the muscle of Rhett’s throat, tongue sneaking out to taste him. “Don’t think it's mornin’ anymore.” His voice was soft in Rhett’s ear, sending an eruption of goosebumps along his heated flesh. 

There was a faint buzz of someone’s phone, buried in a pocket somewhere on the floor. A pang of terror quaked in Rhett's heart, but Link’s casual “ _ ignore it _ ,'' whispered into his ear was enough to ease his mind, at least for the moment. Whoever it was could wait. Their tiny bubble wasn’t ready to be popped yet. 

Link’s exploring lips continued their slow assault on Rhett’s sleep-warmed flesh, nipping at his ear, tongue trailing a hot path down his throat. His teeth teased along, ghosting over Rhett’s collarbone, sucking the freckled skin into his mouth. Rhett let his fingers tangle in the hair at the back of Link’s head, tugging playfully, earning tiny gasps along his quickly bruising flesh. 

Link rocked his pelvis against Rhett’s hips, his stiff shaft spreading wet everywhere it glides over Rhett’s skin. The sensation bloomed a creeping blush over Rhett’s torso, made his mouth water at the thought of tasting it. 

From its place on the floor, the phone continued to buzz, the vibrations amplified by the dark hardwood floors. The sound was becoming insistent. Link huffed in annoyance, pressing one more searing hot kiss to Rhett’s mouth, filthy but quick, before pulling away to find it. 

Rhett’s starving eyes followed him, gazing over his fluid body, watching the muscles of his lithe frame flex as he searched through the pile of clothes before finding the offending device. A worried look settled over Link’s face as he scanned the phone and it felt like a punch to Rhett’s stomach. 

Rhett’s body flooded with adrenaline, the hot flush of it made his eyes burn, made his throat itch. He felt every muscle clench as his fight or flight response engaged. “What’s it say?”

“It’s from Sandy.” Link answered. ”She’s on her way to Raleigh, she’s meeting with lawyers from Marshall’s label. And there’s another one from Kenny. He says he’s got a lot of your stuff because Lenny tried to throw it all off the bus.”

“Oh,” the anxious feeling amplified and Rhett cursed himself for the thousandth time since  _ it  _ happened. His heart clenched at the memory. How could last night have been both the best and worst night of his life? He had single handedly destroyed his burgeoning career before it even had a chance to begin. He certainly saw to it that he’d never work for Roy again. Roy’s influence spanned well beyond just country music. He’d be lucky if he could even find another job as a tech. He’d had the world at his fingertips and he not only let it slip away, he hurled it into oblivion. 

On the other hand, he had finally held Link in his arms, kissed his lips the way he’d dreamt of for months now. They finally confessed everything to each other, revealing just how deep their feelings had rooted in the short months they’d grown close. 

Another wave of hot fear flooded his veins, made his skin crawl.  _ Link.  _ What would his stunt do to Link’s career? To the Lincoln Neal band? There was no way that Roy or Lenny would let Rhett’s transgression go unpunished, and it was all too likely that Link would bear the brunt of it. Could he live with what he did, live with all that followed, if he meant he could have Link? Would Link think it had all been worth it? Compromising everything he had built for someone like Rhett?

He sat up, breath coming in sharp wracking gasps. He pulled his legs up to his chest, crossing his arms across his bony knees and he buried his head in the dark, unable to hide a strangled sob, wet tears falling down his cheeks. 

“Rhett, what - why are you...?” Link crawled up into the bed, trying to pull Rhett’s arms away, one hand stroking his trembling shoulders. 

“I destroyed everything.” He choked out, voice whetted with anguish. “I ruined your career. Your band. Roy already treated you like shit and now he’s going to torture you because’a me. I couldn’t stand him talking to you like that anymore. Threatenin’ you. And then he grabbed you, and I- I didn’t even think, I just...”

Link wormed his way under Rhett’s arms, wrapping the bigger man in a fierce, protective hug. He held him tight, fingertips from his right hand stroking through the soft curls at the nape is his neck, kissing his temple softly while he held Rhett’s face with his left hand. “This wasn’t your fault, baby.” He said, words strong, but the small shake in his voice gave him away. Still, he pressed on. “This was a long time comin’. I knew it; it was killin me to listen to that man’s hate and to pretend to be okay with it. I couldn’t keep livin’ a lie like that for much longer. This would’a happened with or without you, but I'm so damn grateful you’re here with me.” Link pressed kisses along Rhett’s damp cheekbone. 

When Rhett finally braved a glance upward at Link, he saw the tears threatening to spill over his dark lashes, magnifying his icy blue eyes. 

“We are a fuckin’ pair, huh?” Rhett laughed humorlessly. “Finally get what we wanted, at the cost of damn near everything else.” He brought his hand up to rest on Link’s forearm, thumb caressing the bone and sinew, skating over the black band Link still wore around his wrist. 

Link kissed him again, soft, sweet and full of promise.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now Link held Rhett’s hand tightly in his own, fingers woven together, cradling it in his lap. The thumb of his other hand stroked Rhett’s forearm reassuringly. Whether Link was trying to soothe himself or Rhett, he wasn’t sure, but he was grateful for the gesture all the same.

Rhett seemed to keep finding himself with Link in the backseat of other people’s cars. He remembered the way Link relaxed into him the first time the shared a car ride together, letting his head fall to his shoulder. The tiny, otherwise insignificant, act of intimacy seemed monumental in the moment, terrifying and thrilling all at once. He remembered the urge to flee, to hide from the eyes of the driver, panicked at the thought of being exposed. 

Now Link held Rhett’s hand tightly in his own, fingers woven together, cradling it in his lap. The thumb of his other hand stroked Rhett’s forearm reassuringly. Whether Link was trying to soothe himself or Rhett, he wasn’t sure, but he was grateful for the gesture all the same. 

They pulled up to the Renaissance in North Hills at dusk, the hotel looming high over Main with the sun setting in the background. They were met at the car by a concierge. She led them quickly through the sparkling lobby. They stepped onto an elevator that looked like a glittering tomb, made up of white granite and perfectly clean mirrors. Rhett stared at the reflected image of he and Link, side by side, ready to face whatever was coming next. 

Link looked good, hair a little longer than when Rhett had first met him, still straight but less styled_ . _Rhett remembered the sensation from the night before, the strands of Link’s hair slipping between his fingers like silk. He met Link’s eyes in the mirror and the smaller man smiled at him, quirking an eyebrow as if he could read Rhett’s mind. 

“Right this way, Sirs.” The petite woman said, leading them out of the lift and down a low-lit hall. The business center was elegant, a mahogany banquet table stretched along the center. The walls were a deep, dark blue, accented with large glass paned doors that lead to a balcony overlooking the gleaming Raleigh skyline. 

There were three men in the room that Rhett had never seen before, all wearing dress shirts and slacks, ties loose, their blazers scattered over the furniture. It was obvious they had tried to make themselves comfortable. They’d been there for a while, if the scattered coffee cups and half eaten takeout boxes were any indication. 

“Mr. Neal,” one of the men stood to shake Link’s hand, the long sleeves of his button down shirt rolled up his dark forearms. “I’m Julian Reynolds. I work for Mr. Turner. We’ve been reviewing your contracts with Mr. Walker for the better part of the last 18 hours.” The man said, pausing to turn to Rhett offering his hand. “You must be Rhett.”

“Oh!” Link’s said, shock evident in his voice. He looked over at Rhett, and for the first time that day, his face looked genuinely relieved. “I didn’t realize… I thought Marshall was pretty much was done with me after last night.” 

“Why the hell would you think that?” A deep, warm voice rang out from behind them. Marshall entered the room, dressed in his usual light washed Wrangler jeans and black button down. His face was open in a friendly smile, clapping each of them on the back. 

Sandy walked in just after him. For all that Marshall looked calm and happy, Sandy looked overwhelmed, anxious and tired. Her hair, obviously having been styled with hairspray at some point, was misshapen, stiff, fallen flat in some places. She too had shed the jacket to her pants suit. “Lincoln, I’ve been doing damage control all day.” She said, plopping down into one of the rolling chairs at the board table, setting her coffee cup next to a silver laptop. 

She looked hard at the two of them, lips pursed. “What were you _ thinking _ ?” She all but glared at Rhett, voice whet with venom, as if he had insulted her personally. “They wanted to have you _ arrested. _ And they could have. They _ would _ have, if Marshall hadn’t stepped in. You’re lucky you’re not in jail right now for _ assault _.”

“Ma’am,_ I - _“ Rhett didn’t get a chance to defend himself before she threw a hand up, not wanting to hear it. 

“No, _ Rhett _, what’s done is done. Only thing we can do now is move forward.”

“Spoken like a true publicist.” Marshall laughed, claiming one of the chairs, propping his boot-clad feet up on the expensive hardwood. He held a glass of brown liquor in one hand, tipping towards them before taking a sip. He motioned for them to sit as well, offering them each a glass of the honeyed liquid. 

“So how do we do that?” Link asked, taking a small sip from his glass. “How do we move forward from here?” 

Julian spoke up. “Well, that’s much easier said than done, Mr. Neal. We’ve scoured the contracts, and predatory though they might be, they’re _ ironclad _.”

The words caused Rhett’s heart to sink, heat flaring along the back of his neck. He looked between Link and the older man, searching for an answer. “What do you mean? What does that mean for…”

“It means,” Sandy interrupted, voice level, like she’d been steeling herself to say it. “It means that Roy _ owns _ the Lincoln Neal Band. He owns everything. Every lyric, every melody. He even owns your damn name. And he’s not looking to give it up anytime soon.” She finished her statement with an exasperated sigh. “Even with a whole team of lawyers, we haven’t found a single loophole. He _ owns you.” _

Rhett slammed his hand down on the table too, causing Sandy to jump. “No! That _ can’t _ be it. You can’t just _ own _ another person’s life’s work. There _ has _ to be some way.” He felt it again, the horrible sinking feeling that came along with knowing he had destroyed the life that Link had built. Link had let him in to his world, and Rhett, always so careful about not taking up more space than he needed, had smashed through Link’s life, leaving a disaster in his wake. 

“Lincoln.” Sandy turned her chair toward Link, leaning forward, voice delicate as if speaking to a young child. “There’s only one way out of this. You have to mend your relationship with Roy. Finish this tour. Once it’s done, Marshall will be able to negotiate a deal. But we can’t do that if Roy is unwilling to work with him. With you.” 

Marshall cut in, “Son, once this tour is over I can convince Roy to let me produce a new album for you. I’ll make sure when the contract is negotiated, he thinks he’s still winning, but you’ll be able to retain control of your music. It’s the best we can do right now.” 

Conflict washed over Rhett in a wave of cold dread. Marshall’s plan, horrifying as it was, looked like a faint glimmer of light at the end of an impossibly dark tunnel. It was a lifeline that Link could cling to; an option Rhett knew he had no chance to be a part of. His heart ached at the thought of being left behind, but he knew he couldn’t stand in Link’s way. 

Rhett glanced up, eyes finding Link staring at him, face set in a hard expression. Link held Rhett’s gaze, stating plainly, “No. That’s just not going to work for me.” 

“Lincoln!” Sandy shouted his name like a curse. “I don’t think you understand what we’re saying here. You don’t have _ any _ other choice. It’s this or _ nothing _! If you break this contract, you lose everything. You won’t ever perform another Lincoln Neal song again.” 

Link’s eyes did not stray from Rhett’s gaze. His voice was firm, unyielding. “I’m not choosing nothin’. I’m choosin’ my own freedom. I’m choosin’ my happiness. You say if I don’t make up with Roy that Lincoln Neal is dead? Well, _ done. _ Good _ fuckin’ _ riddance.” 

Sandy gaped at him, disbelief etched across her face. “Lincoln, you can just _ give up _ everything we’ve worked for. What about your band mates? The people who support you? Your _ fans! _ This goes beyond just you.”

Sandy’s words sank into Rhett’s stomach, his blood turning to ice. She was right, and he knew it. He didn’t want to admit it, but there was no other way. “Link, c’mon. Let’s go talk.” His voice was trembling, words thick as he choked them out around the lump in his throat.

They made their way through the huge glass doors, leaning over the balcony railing. Link broke the silence first. “I know what you brought me out here for.” He stared up at Rhett, the lights of the city shining in his eyes. 

“You do, huh?” Rhett felt a sad, incredulous smile tug at his lips, stepping up into Link’s space. One hand found Link’s hip, setting over the waistband of his jeans. “You already know what I’m gonna say?”

Link put his hands on Rhett’s hips, pulling him in even closer, head tilted up to look him in the eye. “You’re going to try to do something _ stupid _ and noble. You’re going to try to convince me to listen to them and take Marshall’s offer.”

Rhett gaped at him, “Well, yeah, I guess I was. They’re right, Link. Sandy’s right, this is the last option. I can’t let you give up everything you’ve worked your whole life for. They’ll help you, and maybe after the tour is over we can -”

”Stop it. Just _ shut up _. I can’t do it, Rhett. I can’t go back to pretending like I believe what that man believes. Just accepting his hatred and narrow-mindedness” Link shook his head, stoney expression set on his face, eyes shining wet as he stared desperately up at Rhett. “I hid away a huge part’a myself away for a long time, and for what? At the end of the day I’m making money hand over fist for a man I can’t stand. I won’t do it anymore.” 

Rhett cupped Link’s face in his hands, thumbs brushing away the tears spilling down his sharp cheekbones. “I can’t help but feel like this is all my fault. I caused this mess, and I can’t let you lose _ everything _ because’a me. I’m not worth it, Link. I love you too much to let you do it.” 

Link grabbed the back of Rhett’s neck, dragging him down to crush their mouths together, fisting his hands in Rhett’s hair. He spoke against Rhett’s mouth, breath harsh and ragged as he sobbed out the words . “I can’t go on actin’ like you’re not the most important thing in my life. If Lincoln Neal has to die so that I can keep you, then so be it.”

Rhett pulled back, pressing their foreheads together. “If you’re not Lincoln Neal, then who are you?”

Link angled his chin forward, pressing a soft kiss to Rhett’s mouth. “Well, all my friends just call me _ Link. _” He kissed him again, a sad smile pressed against Rhett’s lips. 

Rhett pulled his smaller frame into his arms, wrapping around his shoulders and holding him close. He buried his nose in Link’s hair, inhaling his scent. They stood there, savoring the warmth between them for a long while before either of them broke the silence.

_ “I’ll let my name die, just to keep us alive. _” Rhett finally said out loud, chuckling into the crown of Link’s hair. “Sounds like a country song.” 

Link looked up at him, eyes alight with laughter. “And you keep saying you’re not a _ songwri - _ ” His words stopped mid sentence, eyes wide and wild. “Rhett, _ fuck! _”

He smashed his mouth fiercely against Rhett’s, quickly, before pulling away and storming back through the glass doors. 

“Marshall!” Rhett followed behind Link as he burst into the room. “Marshall, listen. I’m sorry I cheated you out of a recording artist. I know you had your heart set on Lincoln Neal, but I… I _ think _ I might have a _ different _ one to introduce you to.” 

Sandy and Marshall both turned to look at Link, the older man leaned forward in his seat, eyes sparkling with renewed intrigue. 

Link grabbed Rhett’s arm, pulling him further into the room. “He’s an incredible musician, he writes music that will make your heart ache. And he’s already got almost a whole _ album _ worth of amazing songs. Songs that Roy has absolutely _ no rights _ to.” 

Realization dawned on Sandy’s face as she finally put the clues together. “Rhett? You have… you have _ songs?” _

Rhett rubbed the back of his neck, blushing under their scrutiny. “I mean, I wrote the music. _ Link _ wrote the words.”

“That’s right,” Link cried out. “_ Link _ wrote them. Not _ Lincoln. _ Roy knows absolutely nothing about them. He would have no claim to them at all.”

Marshall looked delighted, the red in his face darkening, either from joy or his drink, Rhett guess it didn’t really matter which. “Well son, do you have a _ band _?”

Rhett’s face flushed, grin spreading before he could stop it. He looked back over at Link, standing next to him, the fondness in the smaller man’s eyes almost too much to handle. “Well sir, I have a _ damn good _guitarist.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth, thank you for holding my hand through this. I'm eternally grateful for your friendship.
> 
> Mick, I would've never pulled this off if it weren't for you. Thank you for your patience and your guidance. 
> 
> Appa, Guru and Michelle, you cheered me on every step of the way. I hope I did it justice. 
> 
> For everyone that took a chance on this little story, I thank you so much. 
> 
> One more chapter to go.


	15. Chapter 15

Rhett smoothed his hands over the front of his white button down shirt. He still never felt totally at ease all dressed up, but he had to admit, his reflection in the mirror looked pretty good. His hair had grown out, not quite long enough to use his black hair band, but long enough that the golden locks curled softly around his ears.

He watched Link in the mirror from his vantage point, threading a belt through his tight blue jeans. Link looked good too. His hair was more salt than pepper these days, but it only made him look even more refined.

“You ready?” Link asked him, hooking his fingers into Rhett’s belt loops, tugging him forward into a soft, lingering kiss. After a year and a half of deep kisses and heated touches, Link still stole his breath the same way he did the first time Rhett laid eyes on him.

“Hell yeah,” Rhett grabbed Link’s slender hip, pulling them flush together. He let one hand splay on Link’s chest, tiny little rhinestones caught against his fingertips as he toyed with the dark fabric.

“Save it for later,  _ big man _ .” Link could still draw out a groan from him every time he brushed his tongue over Rhett’s bottom lip.

They made their way out of the venue’s dressing room, out onto the stage in front of the gathered crowd. House music was pumping through the speakers and Rhett could feel it strumming through every nerve in his body. Music always spoke to him, it almost felt spiritual, affecting him in a way that nothing else ever had. Nothing, that is, except for his connection with Link.

Their bond was undeniable, and as they grew closer, it was clear to anyone who had laid eyes on them, together they were like a  _ myth _ , something so magical it couldn’t be real. They made no effort to hide anymore; they both refused to pretend they weren’t all in with each other. They naturally gravitated toward one another, often so close they’d be touching at multiple points on their bodies. It was a pure connection that spoke to so many people. It made them fascinating. It made their music  _ extraordinary _

The crowd roared when they noticed Rhett and Link making their way toward the center of the stage. Their instruments were set up along the stage, and on one of their amp decks there were glasses of bourbon poured for each of them. Rhett smiled at Link, taking in his excitement. He could feel it already; tonight would be one for the books.

Link stepped up to his mic, “Alright y’all, before we get this party started, I wanna say a few words. It took a long time to get here, and sometimes it seemed completely impossible. It was a hard fight, tooth and damned nail every step of the way. But we never gave up. Not on ourselves and not on each other. And we didn’t give up on any of you.” He paused to take a sip of his drink, eyes bright while he looked over the crowd, their fans all staring up at him. “You’ll never know how much it meant that you all stood behind us. I took the biggest chance of my life, and y’all followed me into the unknown. And here we are, one million albums later!”

The audience cheered and he looked over to Rhett, the soft blue and purple lights dancing over the features of his face, highlighting his nose, his cheekbones, the sharp jut of his perfect jawline. He held up his glass in a toast. “ You got anything you wanna say?”

“Nah, just that I love you.” The crowd erupted again as Rhett leaned down, kissing Link smoothly before he pulled away, launching into their first song of the night.  He let the energy of the crowd flow through him, carrying him across the stage. Every drop of sweat felt like an offering. He laid himself bare, thankful for the honor to be there in front of them.

They were on fire, the crowd entranced by every song. They were singing along so loudly that sometimes Rhett and Link didn’t even need to sing themselves, they just let the ringing voices of their fans fill in the words for them. The sensation made Rhett’s chest swell with pride. In his wildest dreams he never thought he’d have moments like this, a venue full of people knowing the words to his songs, singing them back to him like a prayer. It was overwhelming, made all the more sweet because he could share the experience with Link. It was them against the world, always had been. He knew nothing could ever stand in their way, not anymore.

They paused between songs to tell stories about the last year. The crowd laughed at Link’s retelling of tearing his pants on stage during their first real show as  _ Rhett and Link _ . Ever the showman, he had enthusiastically tried to jump off an amp, doing his best Angus Young impression before landing wrong and ripping the crotch seam. The crowd that night ate it up, cheering wildly as he laughed it off. This audience loved it, too. Even his band mates were in near hysterics at the memory. 

The audience jeered as Link lamented the memory of The Lincoln Neal Band winning a Grammy and not being allowed to accept it, the rights still in conflict with Roy Walker and his label.

“That one really broke my heart.” Link shared, voice low, vulnerable and exposed. Rhett’s heart ached for him. The memory still burned fresh in Rhett’s mind, his arms wrapped tight around Link that night as he fought through gut wrenching sobs of despair that wracked his whole body. Rhett held him close, stroking Link’s hair as he mourned his former life.

“I really thought I finally had a chance to get my song rights back after everything that happened a few months ago.”

Link didn’t have to elaborate. The crowd knew exactly what he was talking about. They knew that Roy Walker had gotten caught trying to solicit a sexworker in a men’s room at a hotel in Texas. It had created a massive scandal and the man had lost damn near everything. The legal fees alone had toppled his empire built on faux-pious bullshit.

“I thought once that hypocrite had to sell off his assets, maybe I could get back what was mine.” His voice was so somber that it made Rhett’s heart ache, seeing the fresh hurt still there in his eyes when Link looked over at him.

_ “What happened?” _ Someone near the front of the crowd yelled.

“Well, buddyroll, seems like someone else wanted my songs more than I did.” Link chuckled mirthlessly into his microphone. “When the time came I didn’t even have a chance to throw out a number before some mystery buyer swooped in and got them out from under me. Gotta say, if they wanted them that badly, guess I can’t hold it against ‘em. At least they ain’t Walker’s anymore.”

Rhett couldn't take it any longer, couldn’t stand the raw hurt in Link’s voice. He had to swallow hard around a lump in his own throat. He shook it off and started to slowly pick out an old familiar tune, one he knew the audience would recognize.

“ _ Rhett _ .” Link’s panicked voice speaking directly into his microphone, eyes wild with panic. “You  _ know _ we can’t play that, man.”

Rhett held Link’s gaze. He didn’t stop. In fact, he let the notes of the melody come faster, finding the right tempo for the song. The noise of the crowd swelled as they began to recognize exactly what Rhett was playing. The sound was almost deafening.

“Rhett,  _ seriously _ . Don’t do this.” Link stepped away from his mic to crowd in closer to Rhett. His wet eyes were pleading, his hand reaching out to try to stop Rhett from continuing the song, fingers laying flat against his fretboard. “Not  _ that _ one, Rhett. We  _ can’t _ .”

“It seems like they don’t care, do they?” Rhett said as the crowd began to sing the song. “Couldn’t stop ‘em now if I tried.”

_ watchin you, watchin me. _ __   
__   
_ sure as hell, you can’t see _ __   
_   
_ __ that I’m thinkin ‘bout you, desperately.

Link’s blue eyes swelled with tears. Rhett couldn’t quite make out what he was thinking. He couldn’t tell if Link was elated or devastated, but there, under the blue and purple stage lights, he knew he’d spend the rest of his life trying to make Link happy. He’d never let anything take Link’s smile again.

Rhett moved in closer, leaning his head forward toward Link’s ear.

_ “Wanna know if you dream of me.”  _ He sang along with the crowd.

Realization dawned on Link, slowly, like a heavy wave crashing over him. He grabbed Rhett desperately, fingers clutching at the front of his shirt, Rhett’s guitar the only thing separating them.

“I wrote this song for you” Link’s voice was choked with tears. “Before I even  _ knew _ you.”

Around them, the combined voices of their fans swelled, singing the next line.

_ Or am I just a fool. _

“It was you, wasn't it. You bought them.” Link’s chin was trembling, not able to hold back his tears anymore. He clutched at Rhett, one hand buried in the golden hair at the nape of his neck.

Rhett couldn't contain his smile any longer. The secret had been killing him, threatening to spill out of him for weeks, and now it was finally out in the open. His fingertips cupped Link’s face, thumbs brushing over his delicate cheekbones, tilting his chin upward.

“I couldn’t help myself. It’s  _ my _ song, after all.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for loving my cowboys. I live off comments, so please tell me what you think of the ending.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for Liking, Commenting and Subscribing! You know what time it is!
> 
> Find me on tumblr @ soho-x.tumblr.com


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